


Never Enough

by grimHarpy, r1ns0



Series: Children of Vengeance [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Children, F/M, Jealousy, M/M, Papa Anders - Freeform, Poly Relationship, Pregnancy, Triangle, Unexpected Pregnancy, Unhappy Ending, papa fenris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26296159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimHarpy/pseuds/grimHarpy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/r1ns0/pseuds/r1ns0
Summary: Anders and Marian get a shock and have to make a difficult decision. The future is uncertain but they’ll rely on each other to make it brighter.As time goes by, Justice comes between them and Fenris finds himself caught in the middle. The spirit is never satisfied. It’s never enough.
Relationships: Anders/Fenris, Anders/Hawke, Female Hawke/Anders, Fenris/Hawke, fenris/hawke/anders
Series: Children of Vengeance [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1994125
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

“That explains your whole ‘sexy, tortured’ look,” Marian smirks. 

“Perhaps I should check a looking glass more often,” Anders chuckles with a slight blush. 

She came by the clinic that night, alone. They had an ill-considered night of passion, desperation and loneliness driving him on. He told himself it shouldn’t happen again, he didn’t need the distraction. Justice had only tolerated it. But then it happens again a week later, again the next week. It quickly becomes a passtime, though why Justice allows it to continue baffles the mage. 

He joins the rogue on her expedition, partly due to the attachment he is developing to her. Fenris and Bethany also come, much to Leandra’s distress. Marian is beside herself when her sister contracts the Blight sickness. He leads them to the Warden expedition, and convinces them to take the young mage. 

Her mother cries and blames her for Bethany falling sick, and Marian comes to Anders’ clinic seeking comfort. They don’t talk. He just lays in his cot with her, holding her as she cries herself to sleep. She begins spending her free time helping him in his clinic while she waits for the profits of the expedition to come in. He isn’t ready for the day she comes to him with more tears in her eyes. 

“Anders, I need to talk to you alone,” she says quietly, picking at her nails anxiously. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Not now.” She glances at the dwindling line of patients. “After you close. I’m going to wait in your room.”

‘Room’ is generous. It’s just a hidden hole in the wall that he had managed to squeeze a cot into. He puts it out of his mind and focuses on his patients. It’s long since gone dark by the time he closes his doors and sighs. When he pulls back the camouflaged curtain, Marian is asleep. He sighs and shakes her gently. 

“Marian, you needed to tell me something?”

She sits up and fidgets with her short hair with a heavy sigh. 

“I don’t know how to say this delicately so I’m just going to say it,” she says shakily, looking down at her hands. “I think I’m pregnant.”

“What.”

“I said-“

“I heard what you said.”

He steps away from the cot back into the clinic, pacing. He’s a Grey Warden. How did this happen. As far as he is aware, Wardens never had children after their Joining. He needs to check. Anders turns to see Marian watching him, fear in her eyes. 

“Hold still.”

He runs a glowing hand over her lower stomach and his fear is confirmed. She absolutely is pregnant. The mage curses and walks away, resuming his pacing as Justice berates him. 

**You see what happens when you give in to unjust desires, mage? Do you know the consequences of conceiving a child that may have been passed the taint? You must fix this.**

_It could be fine. I don’t even know how far along she is. It’s possible she doesn’t even carry to term._

**And how would she handle losing an unborn child?**

_I don’t even know if she wants to keep it._

“Please say something, Anders,” Marian begs. 

He stops and looks at her. She’s crying. Her hair and clothes are disheveled. He takes a deep breath. 

“Do you want to keep it?”

“Is there an option not to?”

“There’s a potion I could make, it wouldn’t take much, it would be painless-“

“Stop.”

He runs a hand over his face, then lets his hair loose and tussles it anxiously. She walks over to sit at his desk and puts her head on the table. He hears her give in to her tears and he can’t leave her like that. Walking over to her, he rubs a hand up and down her back soothingly. 

“I know this is a difficult situation, but you should make a decision soon. The potion only works until a certain point in the pregnancy.”

“...what do you want, Anders?”

He barely hears her as she mumbles into the desk. 

**You have no time for such a responsibility, Anders. Tell her to end it.**

_I’m surprised you don’t see that idea as an injustice._

**What justice is there in making a woman bear a child that may never know it’s father? That might suffer bearing the taint?**

_What if I want it to know it’s father?_

**We came together for a purpose, mage. You would set that aside so easily?**

_Who says I have to set it aside? I can’t do both?_

**_That_ would be an injustice to Marian. You would split your commitments? There is no guarantee she would not suffer from not giving her the time and attention she would need.**

“Anders?”

She’s looking up at him. He turns away and groans, then shouts wordlessly, torn. Something snaps inside him and he looks back at her. 

“Keep it.”

—

Marian has reclaimed the Amell estate for her mother, leaving Gamlen’s hovel behind. She invites Anders to move in and he eagerly agrees. Leandra surprisingly doesn’t raise much of a fuss when she finds out about the pregnancy. Someone else, however…

She gathers all her friends to Varric’s quarters in the Hanged Man, sweating as they all arrive for a game of Wicked Grace. After a game or two, Anders gives her a meaningful look and she nods. 

“So, I have something important to tell you all,” the rogue announces nervously. 

“Is something wrong?” Merrill asks worriedly. 

“No, just unexpected. I’m not sure how to put this besides just saying it so… I’m pregnant.”

The room is silent apart from the distant sounds of the tavern outside. Everyone stares at her. Except Fenris. She notices he’s glaring at Anders suspiciously. The mage looks uncomfortable. 

“Who is the father?” The elf asks. 

“It’s Anders-“

Fenris darts over the table to grab Anders by the throat, scattering cards and drinks to pin him on his back against the table and phase a hand to grip the mage's heart. 

“I told you he could not control himself! We should’ve killed him when we first found him, before he could force himself-“

“FENRIS STOP! It was consensual!”

The elf wrinkles his nose in disgust but doesn’t release Anders. An explosion of energy sends Fenris backwards as Justice surges forth. 

“ **RELEASE ME, ELF** ,” the spirit booms. “ **DO NOT THROW ACCUSATIONS WHEN YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT WHAT HAS HAPPENED**.”

“Justice, back off!”

“How did this happen,” Fenris demands. 

“It was just casual at first but we… became close. We didn’t plan on this happening but he did NOT force himself on me.” She reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder. “If you kill him it will hurt me more than anything Anders could do, and I will lose more people important to me.”

Fenris scoffs and stalks out of the room, Isabela rushing off after him. Aveline just sips at her mug with a ‘damn’ sort of expression as Justice dissipates and Anders sinks back to his seat. 

“Well,” Varric drawls, “that went well.”

“I love babies!” Merrill whispers, clasping her hands together. 

“I need you all to be here for me, this will be difficult enough without everyone trying to kill Anders. I need him,” she laughs breathlessly. 

“You’ll always have me, Marian,” the Dalish smiles warmly. 

“Is Anders still staying in Darktown?” Aveline asks.

“No he’s living with me now.”

“That’s probably for the best. It will be hard enough to deal with a pregnancy without worrying about the father’s health and safety.”

“I can take care of myself,” Anders protests weakly, drained. 

“Of course,” Aveline scoffs. 

“At least you’re not living with Gamlen anymore,” Varric points out with a smile. 

“Gee, thanks for looking on the bright side, Varric,” Marian sighs. 

“It’s what I do.”


	2. Chapter 2

To Anders’ surprise, Fenris visits Marian’s estate often. The elf seems protective of her, an idea that raises a feeling of jealousy in the mage. Fenris is at the clinic in the mornings when the couple arrives there through the hidden passage in the mansion's cellar. He stands in the corner, casting an intimidating presence in the room. After a week of this, Anders insists she ask Fenris to leave. 

“Fenris, why are you hanging around the clinic everyday?” Marian asks casually. 

“You are vulnerable now, and someone **competent** must keep an eye on you.”

Anders bristles but ignores the comment as he continues working on a sick young boy. 

“I appreciate the thought, but I’m safe here at the clinic.”

“No, you are not. The mage is not even safe here. It is pure luck that the templars have not yet discovered this place. Who will protect you when the templars smite him and leave him powerless?”

“I’m not defenseless!” She sounds annoyed. 

“Not yet but you will be soon, and you will need someone to protect you.” 

With that, the elf moves to stand outside. Marian sighs and returns to folding bandages and blankets. Anders closes the clinic early that night and ignores Fenris when she bids the elf good night. She says nothing as they travel through the cellar. 

“Was he always this protective?” Anders finally asks as they enter their bedroom. 

“Not to this extent,” she murmurs thoughtfully. “I don’t know why he’s acting like this.”

The next few months seem to fly by, until her stomach has swelled like a melon. Anders pampers her when he can, between treating patients all day and writing his manifesto at night. Which means not as often as he’d like. Which means Fenris has more opportunity to hold Marian’s attention, much to the mage’s displeasure. 

He watches the elf talk with her idly while she organizes medical supplies. She laughs at something he says and he gives her a small smirk. Anders feels his jealous anger bubbling up inside of him but he can’t lose control around his patients. This elf… 

If Fenris only understood what Anders was trying to accomplish, but no. He was too far gone in his ‘all mages are evil and dangerous’ mindset that he would never understand. Not that Anders blamed him for that, not after everything the elf had been through. What he **did** blame the elf for was apparently trying to manipulate Marian into dumping him. 

**But wouldn’t that be better for her in the long run? You’ve warned her many times that you’ll end up breaking her heart and she doesn’t listen.**

_Just because it would be better for her doesn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt me too._

**She could be happy with the elf.**

_He could also hurt her just as easily as I will._

“Anders?”

He snaps out of his inner dialogue. Marian is standing next to him, his patients staring as he realizes his fists are balled within a thin layer of ice. He shakes them out and clears his throat. 

“Sorry, just lost in thought.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Of course, love,” he lies easily, giving her a small smile. 

She just studies him carefully for a moment before frowning, but she returns to her work. The clinic is quiet the rest of the day, except for the chatter of patients. When he closes the doors for the night, he turns to glare at Fenris. 

“Marian, go home, I’ll meet you there.”

“Anders-“

“Don’t argue with me.”

She huffs and collects her coat before leaving. The two men watch her enter the hidden passage before they turn to glare at each other. 

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but you need to stop,” Anders growls. 

“I am not sure I know what you mean,” Fenris frowns. 

“You’re trying to get Marian to leave me, but it’s a bit late for that.”

“If she decides she no longer wants to be with you then that is her choice.”

“She loves me, as I am and as the father of her child. You have **nothing** on me, elf.”

“Are you sure she does not stay out of pity?”

“She wouldn’t have my child if she pitied me.”

“Pity may be the only way any woman would have your child.”

“What do you want, Fenris? To show Marian I’m not worthy of her? I’ve tried, she doesn’t listen.”

“Not to you, perhaps.”

“Just leave her alone,” Anders sighs, turning to leave.

“That child will never be safe around you, **abomination**.”

“ **THERE IS NO JUSTICE IN HARMING A CHILD, THAT YOU DARE SUGGEST WE ARE CAPABLE OF SUCH AN ACT SHOWS YOUR LACK OF HONOR**.”

“Begon, demon, I do not fear you!”

“ **I AM NO DEMON. I AM JUSTICE.** ”

“The only reason I do not kill you is for Marian’s sake. Leaving her child without a father, even an abomination, would break her heart,” Fenris growls, though his voice turns soft on the last word. 

“ **BEGONE ELF, YOU HAVE NO BUSINESS HERE.** ”

Fenris just scoffs and leaves, not bothering to shut the door behind him. He doesn’t know why he continues to antagonize the mage. The man is obviously trapped in a cage by the demon but Fenris enjoys rattling the cage for some reason. He almost pities Anders but then reminds himself that the mage chose to accept the demon. 

When he reaches his mansion, he nearly slams the door shut behind him. He retrieves a fresh bottle of wine from the cellar then settles in front of the fireplace in his room. Letting his mind wander as he drinks, he comes upon an undesirable train of thought. 

He… cares for Marian. Not just as a friend or as someone who has been helping Fenris rid himself of Danarius’s lackeys. But more than that. He couldn’t place the feeling exactly as he’s never felt it before. All he knows is that the sight of her with the mage, of her belly being full of an abomination’s **spawn** infuriates him. 

So yes, maybe he is trying to spirit her away from Anders. Fenris doesn’t know how he would interact with her after that. _I want to kiss her._ The thought comes seemingly out of nowhere, startling him. _No, she’s going to be the mother of that **mage’s** child_, he argues with himself. _I could live with that._ Could he, though?

_And what if that child is a mage, like it’s father? Would Marian have the strength to do the right thing and send it to the Circle? Or would the abomination stop her?_

_He would absolutely stop her. There’s no chance his mission for mage freedom would stop at his own child._

Fenris huffs and takes another huge swig from the bottle. 

_What would I even do about it? Take Marian’s child away from her?_

He shakes his head and snarls in disgust. 

_Even I couldn’t do that to her. She would hate me for it for the rest of our lives._

Once that thought wouldn’t have phased him in the slightest, but now… his chest tightens at the thought of her sending him away forever. He finishes the bottle and throws it at the mantle with an angry shout. He doesn’t know how to proceed. He cares for her. More than he could admit, maybe even to himself. 

Yet more time he spends with her in the clinic, the more he starts to see Anders through her eyes. He sees the loving glances she sends the mage and wishes she would look at him that way. He sees the way the light shines on Anders’ golden hair and warms his honey-colored eyes. Again the elf shakes his head. 

_I need to sleep this off._

He climbs into bed, armor still on and his sword within reach. Guided by the alcohol, he falls into a fitful sleep. 

—

Two more months pass and Marian is ready to pop any time. Fenris is glad he continued to watch her. Twice in the last month did fights break out just outside the clinic. Anders had to break them up while Fenris protected her. When she starts having contractions, she paces restlessly around the clinic, waiting for her water to break. 

Anders keeps telling her to go home and rest but she’s antsy and honestly a little scared. She hasn’t been scared like this in a long time. Marian refuses to tell anyone about her fear but she has a feeling Anders **knows**. How many babies has he delivered? He assured her that he would be with her the whole time, making it easier as best he can. 

Trying to convince Fenris to leave her alone during labor was an event on its own. She finally got him to agree to at least stay outside of the room. The elf grumbled when she said she was letting her mother into the room but no one else. That Anders would be there goes without saying, as both father and healer. 

When Anders tells her for the thousandth time to **go home** , she finally listens. Fenris, of course, shadows her through the hidden passage, through the cellar and into the estate. 

“Mother, how long does this go on?” The rogue asks, but her voice comes out as a whine.

“It’s different for every child, Marian,” Leandra answers sympathetically, moving to rub her daughters back. “Come on, let’s go to your room and sit.”

“I don’t want to sit, I need to walk or it becomes unbearable.”

“You should drink water,” Fenris says quietly. 

“I’m fine,” Marian says dismissively as the three of them enter her room. 

She kicks off her shoes and removes her jacket, leaving herself in a skirt and a loose tunic. Leandra sits on the edge of the bed as Bodhan brings a jug of water. Fenris pours a cup and grabs Marian’s wrist gently to stop her pacing.

“ **Drink**.”

The rogue sighs and nods, sipping at it while she resumes her pacing. Another contraction rocks through her and she groans. Fenris just watches silently, a furrow in his brow and a frown are the only signs of concern. Her water finally breaks and she cries out with another contraction. 

“You need to sit, sweetheart,” her mother insists, pulling the birthing stool into the firelight. 

“Fenris, have Bodhan go get Anders,” Marian pleads. 

He simply nods and hurries out of sight. He’s back in a moment and her breath is heavy. They don’t have to wait long until the mage arrives and rushes over to her. Anders, runs a glowing hand over her stomach and nods to himself. 

“Fenris, you need to leave,” he says without looking over his shoulder. 

The elf hesitates. 

“ **Leave** , Fenris!” 

He flinches when she shouts at him but obeys, closing the door behind him. Fenris sits down right outside, leaning his back against the door as he listens to Marian starting to cry. 

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

“You can, sweetheart.”

“I’m right here, love, it’s going to be fine.”

Fenris’s chest feels tight. Listening to his friend struggle and cry and whimper in pain. He wants nothing more than to help her. But he can’t. All he can do is wait.


	3. Chapter 3

“His name is Kilian,” Marian coos. 

The child has blonde wisps of hair, and Anders’s honey eyes. Fenris has no doubt this is exactly what the mage looked like as a newborn. He swallows the bile in his throat. His feelings about the baby are mixed. On the one hand, it’s Marian’s son and he should be happy for her. On the other hand, it's the spawn of an abomination and most likely shouldn’t have been born to begin with. 

“Fenris?”

He returns to the present, meeting Marian’s worried eyes. 

“Congratulations,” he snarls, then turns around to storm out of the house. 

He doesn’t know what he expected. Not a child that was the spitting image of the abomination. He stalks back to his mansion in the dark of the night. He can’t be around her anymore. 

_Did I forget who sired the boy? What did I expect?_

_A child that looked **something** like the woman I-_

“No,” he snaps, shutting down that line of thought. 

He slams the door behind him, ready for another night of drinking. 

—

“Did I miss something?” Leandra asks, confused. 

“I don’t know, mother, I’m just as surprised as you.”

“Forget about him,” Anders says dismissively. “Don’t let him take away this feeling.”

Anders was in awe of this child. He had helped over a hundred babies be born in the three years he’s been in Kirkwall. But this one was different. Of course it was. Andraste preserve him, he has a **son**. He never thought of himself as someone who would have children but here he is. Here **he** is. Anders strokes Kilian’s cheek with a calloused finger while Marian talks with her mother. 

Kilian. Marian had come up with the name and he didn’t protest. He likes it. The boy looks just like him, which seems to please Marian. It pleases him too, though he had hoped the child would look like her too. But little Kilian is perfect. Leandra leaves to give the couple time alone with their son. 

“I never thought I’d have a child,” Anders whispers. 

“I know what you mean,” Marian coos. “He looks just like you.”

“That might not be a good thing,” he sighs. “If templars know he’s mine, they could use him against us.”

“Don’t talk like that, not yet,” she frowns. “Just share this moment with me, Anders. We have a **son**.”

The next morning Marian invites her friends to come meet Kilian. Fenris is absent, which has her worried. Merrill is beside herself, overloaded by how cute the baby is. Aveline barely contains her own excitement, hovering as Merrill holds him. Varric and Isabela hang back, the pirate looking almost uncomfortable. 

“Everything alright, Isabela?” Marian asks teasingly. 

“I don’t do babies, sweetling,” she sniffs. “Yes, they’re cute and everything but once they start crying I can **not** deal with them.”

“Where’s Broody? Hasn’t he been hovering for months?” Varric wonders. 

“He left after the baby was born, he seemed upset,” Marian frowns. 

“Who cares, at least he’s leaving you alone now,” Anders sneers. 

“Anders, don’t.”

“Sorry, love.”

“Kilian is such a handsome name,” Merrill coos obliviously. “I’m glad everything went well.”

“He looks just like you, Anders,” Aveline chimes in, smiling a little. 

“Doesn’t he?” Marian laughs, walking over to take the baby from the elf. “He’s so cute!”

Anders says nothing, just smiles lightly as he leans against the wall and watches the others. Varric moves to stand next to him. 

“So how are you holding up?”

“I’m fantastic, never better,” Anders says brightly.

“Mhm, of course. And the fact that your hands have been balled into fists since we got here has nothing to do with your new baby glow?”

“It’s nothing, Varric, don’t worry.”

“If you say so.”

—

“Fenris? I know you’re in here.”

“What is it?”

“Based on how you acted before he was born, I thought you’d be just as taken with that baby as the rest of us,” Isabela drawls as she walks into Fenris’s room. 

“Leave it alone,” he mutters from the floor next to the table. 

“What’s the problem? Did you forget who the baby’s father was? And then seeing that hair and those eyes snapped you back to reality?”

“This doesn’t concern you, Isabela.”

“Marian is hurt, you know. I think she’s grown quite attached to you.”

“What do you care?”

“Because you're both my friends, dammit!” 

She pounds on the table, shaking the collection of empty wine bottles. 

“I don’t know what’s going on with you, but Marian needs you supporting her. You’re closer to her than any of us.”

“Not as close as the **mage** ,” he spits. 

“Is that what this is about? Are you jealous?”

“I’m not jealous!”

His denial sounds like a petulant child, even to his ears. He groans and sits up. 

“Sure you’re not,” the pirate sighs. “Kilian is well over a year old now and you’re avoiding Marian at every chance. You don’t think that hurts her? Is that what you want?”

“Of course not!”

“Well if not, you don’t show it. She’s going to give up on you sooner or later, and I **know** you wouldn’t be alright on your own.”

“I don’t need your pity!” He snaps but she maintains her glare. “Leave, Isabela. You’re not wanted here.”

“Clearly,” she scowls.

She turns and stalks out of the room, the click of her boots echoing through the mansion. Fenris flops back onto the floor, looking up at the ceiling. Kilian. The older the child gets the more he looks like Anders. He can see how happy the little family is and he can’t explain the painful feeling of longing in his heart when he looks at them. It’s why he stays away. But Marian is back out doing various jobs around Kirkwall and she will call on him sooner or later. 

_I miss them._

He frowns at the wine splatter stains on the ceiling. **_Them?_** Who is the other part of this ‘them’? He had spent time around Anders too, in the clinic when he was protecting Marian. They didn’t talk much but he saw the good that the mage does every day in darktown. No Tevinter mage would do the things Anders does. 

Is that what Marian sees in him? A selfless man, sacrificing everything for the sake of others? Fenris can see it. But he is still an abomination. Anders willingly accepted a demon, body and soul. The elf isn’t sure he could look past that the way Marian does. 

When Marian comes to call on him, he will follow her without hesitation. 

—

“I’m not leaving **Gamlen** responsible for my child, mother! I’m worried he’ll bet him away or something.”

“He probably would,” Anders mutters under his breath. 

“Oh, Marian, just let him spend time with Kilian,” Leandra pleads. 

“He can come here to the house and see him, but not without you or Bodahn watching him,” Marian says firmly, passing said toddler to his grandmother. 

She turns to Anders as she ties her hair back. Marian had grown her hair out since she fell pregnant, and it now reached her shoulder blades. Her lover had developed a habit for a while of tying it into small braids when she would feed Kilian. 

“Papa,” Killian coos, reaching out for his father. 

“We’ll be back tonight, little man,” Anders says with a smile, rubbing the boy's cheek with his finger. 

The toddler frowns and blows raspberries, making the small family laugh. Anders follows his lover outside and up to Fenris’s mansion. As usual, the door was unlocked so they walked through up to his room.

“Fenris?”

“Yes?”

She flinches at the venom in his voice. 

“I’m going to the Bone Pit to clear it out again, I could use your help.”

“Ah.” He stares into the fire. “Yes, I will help you.”

“Thank you,” she sighs, relieved. 

The three of them walk through Hightown down to Lowtown, down to the Hanged Man to find Isabela. The pirate raises an eyebrow when she sees Fenris but doesn’t comment. Marian leads the way out of Kirkwall towards Sundermount, to the Bone Pit.


	4. Chapter 4

Separation anxiety is getting to her. Marian keeps getting distracted as their group works through the mines. Finally Fenris snaps at her to pay attention before she gets herself killed, and what would happen to her child then? The thought sobers her. 

“Back off, elf,” Anders growls. 

“No, he’s right,” she hushes him. “If I’m going to go back to this kind of life I need to be able to focus.”

“That’s a good girl,” Isabela smirks. 

“Let’s keep going.”

The dragonlings are just as annoying as the first time they were cleared out. It takes nearly a day and a half with little rest to get the job done. When the group returns to Hubert again, she splits the pay between her companions. Maker knows she doesn’t need more money right now. Fenris walks away wordlessly with his coin purse and Isabela sighs before following him, at least saying goodbye before leaving. 

“I wish Fenris would just talk to me,” Marian sighs, watching the elf’s back disappear into the crowd. 

“He doesn’t really talk to anyone,” Anders says, rubbing her back. 

“He used to talk to **me** ,” she replies in an irritated tone, pulling away. “Let’s just go home, the Bone Pit took a lot longer than we thought.”

Sure enough, when they arrive back at the estate Kilian is crying in the dining room and Leandra is at her wits end. Marian can’t decide if it’s cute or slightly irritating that the toddler brightens as soon as he sees his father. Clearly he has a favorite. Anders plucks his son from his high chair and throws him up in the air, much to Kilians delight. 

“You know I hate it when you do that,” Marian scolds him. 

“You and every mother ever,” he teases as he tosses Kilian again. 

The child squeals excitedly as he goes higher, magic making him soar nearly to the high ceiling. 

“Anders, please, you’re killing me!”

The mage chuckles and holds Kilian close. 

“Looks like mama doesn’t want us to have fun,” he tells his son in a mock pouty voice, making the child giggle. 

“Don’t make me the bad guy!”

“Marian dear, I’m going to go rest for a while.”

“I’m sorry we took so long, mother,” she hugs Leandra as she passes. 

“It’s alright, I enjoy having a child around again.”

Her mother leaves to her room and Marian turns back to Anders, whose son is pulling at the short beard on his chin. 

“That’s probably a sign you should shave soon,” she snickers. 

“Probably,” he sighs, peeling the little fingers away from his face. 

“Kilian needs a haircut soon, too,” she muses. 

“But his long hair is so cute!” Anders pouts, squishing the toddler’s face against his cheek. 

Kilian laughs and squirms against his father’s scratchy beard. His blonde curls reach his little shoulders, but they get tangled easily and the boy refuses to sit still very long. He’s just a fussy ball of energy, who most of the time can only be calmed by his father. Thus he would spend most of his time in a playpen in the clinic, watched by Marian as she organized things. That was before she decided to return to serving Kirkwall. 

Her dog wanders in from Leandra’s room, tugging on the cloth tied around the door knob to pull it closed behind him. He’s old now, his muzzle covered in grey. Scotty was a gift from her father when she was ten, and he’s over 17 now. Marian keeps him around the house now to relax and watch mother while she’s gone. He adores Kilian. 

“Hey Scotty-dog,” she greets him in a baby-talk voice, bending down to scratch his ears. 

“Papa, doh!”

“Yes Kilian, Scotty is a dog,” Anders smiles. 

They take Kilian back to the nursery and sit with him on the floor. Watching their son play with Scotty feels almost as relaxing as taking a nap. 

—

A week after Kilian’s third birthday, everything seems to pick up. Marian is out on Sundermount with Fenris, Isabela and Merrill. She insisted Anders stay at home with the boy as he was being particularly badly behaved. There’s an ambush in the valley, Danarius’s lackeys have come for him again. Fenris is bloodthirsty, slaughtering all of them, including the leader he got the lead on Hadriana from. 

“Fenris, are you alright? They’re dead now,” Marian says carefully. 

“ **Hadriana** ,” he snarls, making her take a step back in alarm. “I was a fool to think I was free. They’ll never let me be!”

“This is someone you know?”

“My old master’s apprentice,” he spits on the slaver’s corpse. “I remember her well. A sniveling social climber that would sell her own children if she thought it would please Danarius. If she’s here, it’s at his bidding. I **knew** he wouldn’t let this go!”

“Then why are we standing around?” Marian fumes. 

“The holding caves held slaves in the old times, buy apparently they are no longer abandoned. We must go quickly, before Hadriana has a chance to prepare - or flee.”

Fenris advises caution as they enter the holding caves, telling them how slavers used them as private pens designed to protect against raids from other slavers. Marian assures him they won’t allow the apprentice to escape. He seems to relax ever so slightly for a moment at the promise before bristling again. 

Fighting their way through the caves proves to be easier than expected, though still dangerous. They find a young elven woman whose father had been sacrificed in a blood ritual. Marian offers her a job and again, tension seems to temporarily leave Fenris’s shoulders. Fenris seems to go feral when they reach the apprentice, slaughtering her slavers and crippling her onto the floor. Marian can only watch in horror. 

“Stop!” Hadriana shouts as the elf approaches. “You do not want me dead!”

“There is only one person I want dead more,” he sneers. 

“I have informationc elf,” she says in a rush, “and I will trade it for my life.”

Marian takes a small step towards Fenris but he doesn’t seem to notice. His focus is completely centered on Hadriana. 

“The location of Danarius?” He scoffs. “What good will that do me? I’d rather he lose his pet pupil.”

“You have a sister! She is alive!”

He leans back, surprised. 

“You wish to reclaim your life? Let me go, and I will tell you where she is.”

Fenris lowers his sword as Marian steps forward, narrowing her eyes at the apprentice. 

“How do we know you’re even telling the truth?” The rogue scoffs. 

“You don’t,” Hadriana laughs humorlessly. “But I know Fenris, and I know what he’s searching for. If he wants me to betray Danarius, he’ll have to pay for it.”

“This is your call,” Marian says quietly, turning to face him head on, but he doesn’t meet her eyes. 

Instead he steps toward the apprentice, leaning down to study her face. 

“So I have your word?” She sounds almost panicked. “I tell you, and you let me go?”

“Yes,” he says evenly. “You have my word.”

Marian knows Fenris enough to know a lie when she hears one. Hadriana, however…

“Her name is Varania. She is in Qarinus serving a magister by the name of Ahriman.”

“A servant. Not a slave.”

“She is not a slave.”

“I believe you.”

Without hesitation, he phases a hand into her chest and rips out her heart, tossing it aside. He spits on her corpse before turning around, not meeting anyone’s eyes as he starts to walk out. 

“Fenris, if you want to talk-“

“ **No, I don’t want to talk about it**!”

Marian flinches and takes a step back. 

“This could be a trap! Danarius could have sent Hadriana here to tell me about this ‘sister’. Even if he didn’t, trying to find her would still be suicide.” His voice turns manic. “Danarius has to know about her and had to know that Hadriana knows. But all that matters is that I finally got to crush this **bitch’s** heart. May she rot and all the other mages with her.”

“Maybe we should leave,” she says, reaching out to touch his arm.

“Do not comfort me,” he snaps, jerking away. “You saw what was done here. There’s always going to be some reason, some excuse why mages need to do this. Even if I found my sister, who knows what the magisters would have done to her. What does magic touch that it doesn’t **spoil**?”

Marian bristles and gives him a dark look. He has the decency to look ashamed. 

“I… need to go.”

—

“Lady Marian, your friend Fenris is here,” Bodahn informs her from the doorway of the dining room. 

Kilian is in the clinic with Anders and Leandra went to visit Gamlen, so it’s just her and the servants. She frowns down at her half-eaten food, then sighs and pushes the plate away. Orana comes in to clear away the dishes. Marian thanks the elf quietly before walking out to the entry room where Fenris sits waiting. 

“I’ve been thinking about what happened with Hadriana,” he stands and speaks before she can say anything. “You and I don’t always see eye to eye, but that doesn’t mean you deserved my anger. I owe you an apology.”

“I had no idea where you went,” she says softly. “I was worried.”

“I needed to be alone,” he sighs, running a clawed hand through his hair. “When I was still a slave, Hadriana was a torment. She would ridicule me, deny my meals, hound my sleep. Because of her status, I was powerless to respond and she knew it. The thought of her slipping out of my grasp now… I couldn’t let her go. I wanted to, but I couldn’t.”

“Your need for revenge is consuming you,” Marian tells him, her voice pleading for him to understand. 

“And what would you have me do?” He snaps. “Hadriana came after **me**! I have never had the option to simply walk away. Am I supposed to forgive, no matter how many times they hunt me down? Am I supposed to forget all the things they’ve done to me?”

“They say amnesia is a friend to the tormented,” she jokes weakly.

“A friend?! I don’t have any friends!” He stares down at his hands, shaking in rage. “It’s a sickness, this hate. This dark growth inside me that I can never get rid of, and they put it there!” He looks up at her and sighs, his face softening. “This isn’t why I came here.”

“Don’t just leave-“

She reaches out to catch his arm and he whips around to pin her against the wall with a feral glare. Marian just stares at him, heart racing as his face relaxes. He looks down at her lips and leans in to press his against hers, softly. She gasps in surprise then melts into it, weaving her fingers into his hair. They part their lips and sigh against each other deepening the kiss before they freeze. Fenris steps away, his face burning as Marian runs a hand through her hair anxiously. 

“I’m… I’m sorry, I should go.”

He hurries out the door and she doesn’t stop him. 

“…what just happened?” She whispers to herself. 

—

Fenris doesn’t go home. He just walks, furious with himself for what he just did. Marian already has a lover. She has a **child** , for Andraste’s sake! He has no right to be doing **anything** with her!

_But she kissed me back._

He frowns and sighs as he runs a hand through his already messy hair. He finds himself in Darktown and he knows where his feet are leading him. Fenris bursts into the clinic, ready to hit something or someone. The only person inside is Anders, hovering over Kilian’s pen. 

“What are you doing here? Did something happen?”

“Why **you**?”

“Why me?”

“You’re an abomination, why would she choose you?”

“I feel like I missed something, why don’t you come back later and try again?”

Fenris stalks closer, getting in Anders’s face. The mage stands his ground, putting himself between the elf and the child. The two glare at each other. 

“Back away from my son.” Anders’s voice echoes with Justice’s wrath. 

Fenris takes a single step back.

“She deserves better than an abomination like you,” Fenris says softly, having lost all venom in his voice. 

“And you think you’re any better?”

“No. No I do not.”

“Why are you here?”

“I do not know.”

Kilian fusses in his sleep, the only sound in the room. 

“I thought I hated you, but I don’t,” the warrior mutters, so quiet the mage can barely hear. “I do not understand this feeling. This sense of longing.”

“What in the Maker’s name is going on?”

“I kissed her.”

“You **what**?”

Fenris grabs Anders by the collar and pulls him into a hard kiss. The mage pushes him away and stares at him, bewildered. Then he pulls the warrior back into an angry kiss, pulling his hair to hold the elf in place. When they separate, Anders just looks confused. 

“Why are you here?”

“I don’t know.”

“You need to leave. Now.”

Fenris nods and walks out of the clinic into the night.


	5. Chapter 5

“Fenris came by earlier,” Marian says uncomfortably, avoiding Anders’s eyes.

“He kissed you.”

“How do you-“

“He told me himself. He came by the clinic and… he was acting really strangely. He kissed me, too.”

“Did… did you enjoy it?”

He gives her an unreadable expression.

“Did you?”

“...yes,” she whispers, staring into the fire. “I kissed him back.”

“So did I,” the mage chuckles and she raises her eyebrows at him. 

“Interesting. So now what do we do?”

“Are you… interested… in Fenris?”

“Strangely enough, I am, but my love for you hasn’t changed.”

“It’s called polyamory, being in love with more than one person with the consent of all involved,” he explains. “Karl and I had another partner in the Circle, but she was…” he clears his throat awkwardly. “She left after I escaped that last time.”

“What was her name?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Alright,” she frowns, but respects the boundary. “Are **you** interested in Fenris?”

“I’m not sure,” he sighs. “Give me some time to think on it and I’ll let you know.”

“Take all the time you need, love.”

—

_I’m such a fool!_

Fenris paces in his room, occasionally taking big gulps from the bottle in his hand. 

“I’m such a fool!” He shouts at nothing, at himself, at the world.

He can never face either of them again, not after such ridiculous displays. They both responded but pushed him away. Of course they pushed him away, they’re **together**. The wine bottle isn’t even empty and he chucks it out the bedroom door, soaring over the banister to the room below. 

“Maker’s breath, if you really don’t want us here you don’t have to throw things!”

“Marian?” He slurs, leaning against the doorway. 

“Look at him, Anders, he’s dead drunk! We can’t talk to him like this.”

“Come on, let’s get you on the bed.”

“Don’t touch me, mage!”

“ _Sleep_ ,” Anders murmurs, casting a glowing hand over the elf. 

He goes limp and the mage catches him, then drags him to the bed. Marian follows him into the room, wrinkling her nose in disgust at the state of it. Empty wine bottles, broken and whole, litter the floor, along with the mold and grime from not upkeeping the house. 

“How does he live like this?” She wonders. 

“Not all of us have the luxury of a family estate,” Anders snarks and she frowns at him. 

“Come on, help me clean.”

“What? I didn’t sign up for that!”

“Either help me clean, or he’s moving in, too.”

“Fine,” he sighs. 

They spend the next few hours picking up pieces of glass and scrubbing away grime, sweeping and wiping surfaces. The room isn’t perfect but it’s **much** better. 

“How long do you think he’ll sleep?”

“A few more hours at least. We should bring him food and water.”

“I shudder to think what his pantry looks like,” Marian grimaces. 

“I didn’t say **his** food and water. We can probably get Orana to make something we can bring him.”

“Good idea.”

Another hour later, they set the stew on a metal grate over the fire to keep it hot, a small bread box and a jug of water on the table. They relax on the sofa, snuggled together comfortably. 

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?”

“For the tenth time in a row, yes. It was my idea in the first place.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just worried he’ll say no.”

“You know him better than I do,” Anders sighs, rubbing her thigh. “What do you think he’ll say?”

“I think he’ll be confused and more than a little alarmed.”

“...and?”

“...I think he’ll say yes.”

“Then what are you worried about?”

“Kilian.”

“Ah.”

“Exactly. He will probably need time to think about it.”

The couple talks quietly about this and that. ‘Kilian needs new clothes’, ‘Mother brought Gamlen around again’, ‘Orana made good dinner the other night’. They turn when they finally hear a groan from the bed. 

“Fenris, are you awake?”

“I…” He sits up slowly, rubbing his forehead. “Why are you two here?”

“We wanted to talk to you but you were… indisposed,” Marian says awkwardly. 

“Leave, I do not want to talk.”

“We brought you food and water-“

“I said leave!”

“...you don’t have to talk, but please just listen?”

Anders says nothing, staring into the fire while Marian pleads with the elf. Fenris nods and sits in the other chair. 

“You should eat some-“

“I’m fine.”

“ **Fenris, eat,** ” Anders says harshly.

Fenris huffs and takes the bowl of stew and a piece of bread. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence while he eats, Marian takes a deep breath. 

“So about the other night, when you… kissed us,” she begins and he cringes with a slight blush. “We’ve thought about it and Anders had the idea that maybe you could be part of our relationship. A third person.”

The elf swallows and puts the food down, covering his mouth with his hands as he stares at the floor. 

“You said this was… Anders’s idea?”

“Yes, it’s called polyamory. It’s when you’re in love with more than one person at a time with the consent of all involved. It was common in the Circle, I’ve done it before,” Anders explains. 

“Was that your relationship to the tranquil you killed in the Chantry?”

The mage winces. “Yes. Him and another mage but she’s no longer in the picture, obviously.”

“I see.”

The three of them fall silent for a while. The air is tense. 

“What about… your son?”

“You can have as much or as little involvement with him as you’d like. If you want to be part of his life, we’re right there with you,” Marian says easily, then frowns uncertainly. “Believe me when I say we really thought about this. We’ll understand if you need time to think about-“

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“I will… try,” Fenris says hesitantly. “I am… unfamiliar with this kind of… situation.”

“We won’t ask more of you than you’re willing to give,” Anders says softly. 

—

**Now you can return to our purpose. They will have each other and you will not be missed. Your responsibility returns to the right place.**

_Fuck off, Justice, you know that’s not what’s happening._

**Give it time. You’ve said yourself it would be better if you left them.**

_Kilian needs me, Marian needs me, I can’t just leave them._

**The elf was almost eager to join your ‘family’. He could easily take care of them, give them the time and attention they need. Wouldn’t he be a better fit?**

Anders doesn’t reply as he closes the clinic for the night. It’s only been a week since Fenris agreed to join their relationship. The elf still hasn’t decided how to interact with Kilian but they’re patient. Justice continues to bother him about the manifesto and the mage underground meetings as he walks through the passage into the cellar. 

He can hear Kilian crying and loud footsteps. As he steps into the front room he sees Fenris rushing toward the door. 

“Fenris? Is something wrong?”

The elf pauses for just a moment then shakes his head and hold up his hands defensively. 

“I… can’t.”

He practically runs out. Anders follows the sound of Kilian’s cries to the bedroom. Marian is standing in front of the fire holding the child, trying to console him. She’s dressed only in her underclothes and her robe, which is tied loosely. 

“Shhh, Kilian, you’re okay.”

“Marian, what’s going on?”

“Anders!” She turns to look at him and she’s crying. “Thank the Maker you’re home.”

“What happened?”

“Kilian woke up right before Fenris left, I think he had a bad dream.”

“Why aren’t you dressed?”

“Anders…”

“Give him to me.”

“Anders, please.”

He takes his son and takes him back to the nursery without saying anything further.


	6. Chapter 6

“Anders?”

“Hello, Nate.”

“We took you for dead,” the man exclaims, excited.

“You know him, Anders?” Marian asks. 

“Marian, this is Nathaniel Howe, he was at my Joining.”

“The commander was-“

“I’m not here, Nate.” Anders says pleadingly. “Don’t tell her.”

“I have to tell her, she’s my superior officer,” Nathaniel frowns. “But I’ll try to keep it a secret otherwise.”

“That’ll have to be good enough,” the mage sighs. “Maker‘s mercy…”

“Who are you two talking about?”

“Naria Surana, Warden Commander of Fereldan,” Nathaniel says, almost pridefully. 

“The Hero of Ferelden?” Marian raises her eyebrows. “How’d you get away from her?”

“That’s a story for another time, love.”

Some of the weight lifts from her shoulders at the endearment. Things have been tense the past few days since Fenris left. Anders refuses to talk about it, only saying she betrayed his trust by not talking to him first. Fenris acts like nothing happened, that the three of them never got together in the first place. She doesn’t know which hurts worse: betraying Anders’s trust, or losing Fenris as a partner. 

They bring Nathaniel back to the surface and Anders hangs back to have a private conversation with his fellow Warden. She bids her friends good bye and goes back to the estate to save her mother from Kilian’s wrath. He doesn’t take long but when he walks into the nursery he wears a soft expression. 

“Come here, love.”

She steps into his embrace and they hold each other tightly while their son plays with Scotty. He sighs and presses his face into her hair. Marian rubs his back gently, trying to ease his tension. 

“A lot has been happening lately,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry to ask more of you.”

“What is it?”

He pulls back with a deep breath. 

“Have you noticed how many tranquil are in the Gallows courtyard lately? And don’t tell me I’m just sensitive to it. I’ve been watching and every day there are new tranquil, selling their bloody wares. Good mages, too. People I **know** passed their Harrowing.”

“Doesn’t Chantry law say that mages who have passed their Harrowing can’t be made tranquil?”

“Exactly! The templars are using the Rite of Tranquility to silence those who speak against them. They’re working on a deliberate plan to turn every mage in Kirkwall within the next three years.”

“Honey, whatever you think of templars, you can’t imagine they’d be so heartless-“

“ **They’re worse.** ” His tone is harsh, his expression dark. “There are groups in Kirkwall who help those fleeing the Circle. I’ve talked to people on the inside.”

“Is this during your secret mage underground meetings at the clinic most nights?” Marian frowns and he nods, unapologetic. 

“The plan is the work of a templar named Ser Alrik. I’ve had a run-in with him myself. He’s the one that did the ritual on Karl.” His eyes flash blue as he gets more worked up and Marian snaps her fingers in his face to get his attention. 

“Not in front of Kilian,” she says harshly. 

“Sorry, love,” he groans, rubbing his forehead. “It still hurts.”

“I know.”

She calls for Orana to watch their son while they go talk in the library. 

“Anyway, he’s a nasty piece of work. Likes to make mages beg,” he continues, right back to his anger. 

“What else do you know about him?”

“The Knight-Commander is at least sincere in her convictions. However misguided, she believes she’s helping people. Ser Alrik’s a **sadist**. Cold-blooded as a lizard. He likes to experiment on mages, find out what it takes to push them into the arms of demons.”

“Don’t templars have anything better to do than come up with new ways to torment mages,” the rogue sighs, shaking her head.

“No.” He runs his hands up her arms softly, taking a deep breath. “My friends in the mage underground know a way inside, a secret entrance under the walls of the Gallows. Come with me tonight, **please**. Help me find the evidence of Ser Alrik’s ‘tranquil solution’.”

“‘Tranquil solution’?”

“That’s what he calls it. His idea of a ‘peaceful’ solution to the mage problem. To sunder the mind of every mage in the Free Marches.” His eyes flash again and he takes a deep breath. “I’m told he’s taking his proposal to Val Royeaux, to the Divine Herself. He would turn every mage in Thedas into a drooling simpleton.”

“I wouldn’t let you face this alone, but you need to get a better hold of Justice,” Marian says seriously, giving him a wary look. 

He nods but he can’t hide the pain in his eyes. 

“Thank you, love. You are the one bright light in Kirkwall. I’ve always feared being made tranquil. Now more than ever.”

—

“No, please! I haven’t done anything wrong!”

“That’s a lie,” Alrik sneers. “What do we do to mages who lie?”

“I just wanted to see my mom! No one ever told her where they were taking me!”

Anders can feel Justice’s wrath bubbling up inside him and he forces it down. 

“No, no this is their place, we can’t-“

“Anders?” Marian whispers, reaching out to take his hand. 

“So, you admit your attempted escape,” Alrik continues, reveling in the girl’s fear. “You know what happens to mage girls who toe the line around here, don’t you?”

“ **Please** , no! Don’t make me tranquil! I’ll do anything!”

“That’s right,” the templar purrs. “Once you’re tranquil, you’ll do anything I ask.”

“The Chantry frowns on templars who take personal advantage of their charges,” Marian hisses. 

“Who’s this?”

Anders pulls his hand away from Marian and grips his staff as his body starts to glow and his voice echoes. 

“You fiends **will never TOUCH A MAGE AGAIN**!”

The mage gives off a blast of spiritual energy knocking back ally and foe. Marian, Fenris and Isabela back up Anders or Justice or whichever he is now, Marian isn’t sure as he slaughters the templars. He is still pulsing with light and energy even as they lie dead. 

“ **THEY WILL DIE! EVERY LAST TEMPLAR FOR THESE ABUSES!** ”

“The templars are gone, you can calm down,” Marian says cautiously. 

“ **EVERY ONE OF THEM WILL FEEL JUSTICE’S BURN!** ”

“Get away from me, demon!” The girl cries fearfully. 

Anders/Justice turns to glare at her. 

“ **I AM NO DEMON! ARE YOU ONE OF THEM, THAT YOU WOULD CALL ME SUCH?** ”

“Anders, that girl is a mage!” Marian shouts, desperate to get through to him. “We rescued her from being made tranquil!”

“ **SHE IS THEIRS, I CAN FEEL THEIR HOLD ON HER!** ”

“She’s the reason you’re fighting, Anders!” She reaches out and touches his shoulder. “Don’t turn on-“

Anders whips around and seizes the rogue by her throat, catching her off-guard. Her knees buckle and she pulls desperately at his hands. A flash of blue and she is free, falling to the ground and choking. Fenris has knocked Anders aside and the mage shakes his head, sinking to his knees. The mage girl flees deeper into the tunnel back to the Gallows. 

“Maker, no,” Anders groans, looking at Marian with horror as he realizes what he’s done. “I almost… if he hadn’t… I need to get out of here!”

He bolts out of the chamber, disappearing into the darkness as Isabela and Fenris help Marian. She’s gripping her throat and crying, trying to process what just happened. Anders lost control. And if he could do it to her, what’s stopping him from doing it to Kilian?

—

Fenris is with her when she returns home, finding Anders sorting through his belongings in their room and muttering to himself in a crazed tone. 

“What are you doing?”

“ **I almost killed you** ,” he shouts, turning to look at her with tears in his eyes. 

“And you would have succeeded had I not intervened,” Fenris growls. 

“Fenris, don’t,” Marian hushes him. “What does Justice have to say about this?”

“He’s been quiet. I think he’s ashamed.”

“As he should be!” She finally gives in to her anger. “How am I supposed to trust you now? If you could let Justice do that **to me** , what would you let him do to Kilian?”

“He would never hurt Kilian, he’s an innocent child!”

“And I’m his mother, the woman you claim to love, yet you nearly **murdered** me!”

“I **do** love you! All three of you, more than anything!”

Fenris tenses but says nothing, continuing to glare at Anders. 

“I think it would be best if you went back to the clinic,” Marian says quietly. 

“Love, please-“

“You need to go, Anders.”

He takes a shaky breath and nods, picking up his small bag of belongings and walking out the bedroom door.


	7. Chapter 7

“What do you mean, she’s **missing**?”

“She didn’t show up for our weekly visit and she’s not here, so where would she be?”

“Perhaps she’s with her new suitor,” Bodhan suggests. 

“Suitor? She never mentioned a suitor.”

“Well those lilies arrived for her this morning.”

Indeed, a vase of white lilies is standing on the table by the door. Dread settles in Marian’s stomach. 

“Bodhan, would you run to Fenris’s mansion and have him meet me in Lowtown, near the Hanged Man. We need to find her.”

Fenris is beside her before she even reaches Lowtown, listening to her explain the situation. He takes her hand for the briefest moment to give it a reassuring squeeze, then lets go. Her heart hurts a little at the small display of affection but it still soothes her nerves. 

With Varric and Merrill now at her back as well, they find Gamlen arguing with a street urchin about Leandra. Persuaded by coin, the child shows them a trail of blood which reinforces the dread in Marian’s stomach. Fenris puts a hand on her shoulder for just a moment before the group follows the trail. It leads into a foundry and down a trapdoor. 

The deeper they travel into this underground lair, the more demons they find and Marian is struggling not to lose her composure. The panic is real. Again Fenris takes her hand and squeezes it, but this time she squeezes back, holding his hand for another moment until she’s grounded. 

Of course Fenris would recognize her distress. She knows Varric and Isabela see it as well but not to Fenris’s level. She finds herself wishing Anders was here, but she pushes the thought away. He doesn’t deserve to be beside her anymore. She sees a grey haired woman laying on a cot and runs over. 

“Mother!”

But it’s not her. It’s the body of another victim. Marian takes a deep breath before backing away and moving forward through this wretched place. She finds Leandra’s locket and grips it in her fist, composing herself yet again before pocketing it. After fighting more demons, they come across what looks like a poor makeshift office with a painting on the wall. A portrait of…

“What… is this? This woman almost looks like mother.”

“This man is either very devoted or very insane,” Fenris speculates.

“I need to find her. **Now**.”

On the table are books and notes on necromantic rituals, and deranged letters to a woman. A letter from the Circle identifies this killer as Quentin. Chills run down the rogue’s spine as they push on. Descending a flight of stairs they come up behind a man standing next to a chair. Someone is sitting in it but their back is turned so she can’t see. 

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” Quentin smirks as he turns to face them. “Leandra was so sure you’d come for her.”

“Where is she?” Marian shouts, her voice cracking slightly. 

“You will never understand my purpose,” he sneers. “Your mother was chosen because she was special, and now she is part of something… greater.”

“I get it, you’re crazy,” Marian snaps. “Give me my mother!”

The insane man gives a manic smile and looks back at the figure in the chair. 

“I have done the impossible. I have touched the face of the Maker and lived! Do you know what the strongest force in the universe is?” He walks back to the figure. “Love. I pieced her together from memory. I found her eyes, her skin, her delicate fingers. And at last… her face. Oh, this beautiful face.” 

He lifts the figure's chin, the face hidden by a white veil. They stand, their movements jerky and unnatural. 

“I’ve searched far and wide to find you again, beloved, and no force on this earth will part us.”

The figure turns and Marian lets out a cry of despair. It’s Leandra, or what’s left of her. Her head sewn onto an unfamiliar body, dressed in a tattered wedding gown. Quentin summons a barrier around himself and Leandra, summoning demons and undead. 

The fight rages, Marian’s anger and outrage turning her into a vicious killer. As each wave of demons is slain, the more damage they do to this murderer. The moment Quentin hits the ground dead, Marian runs to her mother as she falls, cradling her. 

“Mother!”

“His magic was the only thing keeping her alive,” Merrill says quietly over the rogue’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

“I knew you would come,” Leandra croaks as her daughter finally gives into her tears. 

“Don’t move, we’ll find a way-“

“Shh, don’t fret darling,” she whispers, reaching up to wipe Marian’s face, to no avail. “That man would’ve kept me trapped in here. Now I’m free. I get to see Carver again… and your father. But you’ll be here alone.”

“I’ll be fine, mother,” the rogue sobs, stroking her mother’s hair. “I’ll make sure Bethany stays safe, I promise.”

“My little girl has become so strong,” she smiles softly. “I love you. You’ve always made me so proud…”

With a deep sigh, she goes still. Marian leans down and pulls her mother close to her chest as she cries, loud and ugly sobs. Someone touches her shoulder but she doesn’t look. How long she sits there, she doesn’t know. Another family member, taken from her. 

“Hawke…”

“Let her be a little longer, Varric.”

The hand on her shoulder moves to rub her back and she lets her breathing even out. Marian pulls her mother away from her chest and lays her body on the floor gently. Someone hands her a handkerchief and she accepts it wordlessly. Her whole body is shaking, and she doesn’t know if she can trust her legs. 

She’s covered in demon blood and ichor, and has several claw marks from a demon that are still oozing blood. Merrill is doing her best to close the wounds but she’s not a healer. The Dalish manages to get them to stop bleeding enough for Marian to stand. Fenris wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her arm across his shoulders to hold her up, her legs indeed too weak to stand alone. 

“Merrill, would you please burn her?”

“Of course.”

They all watch the body burn, Fenris brushing his lips across the top of Marian’s head as she cries again. She pulls out the locket and opens it. Inside is a folded up slip of paper and an inscription. _Family is what you make it_. She sniffles and closes it again, putting it back in her pocket. When the fire finally dies, Fenris half carries her out of the lair. 

When they’re back in Lowtown, Varric disappears with Merrill toward Darktown. Walking up the many steps to Hightown is torture for her side, but Fenris is with her all the way to her estate. He guides her up to her room and helps her lay on her side. She catches his hand as he stands. 

“Please don’t go,” she pleads weakly. “I don’t think I can handle being alone right now.”

“Of course,” he says softly, sitting back down and stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. 

Fenris looks up at the door sharply at the sound of Bodhan arguing with a familiar voice. 

“Varric said she’s hurt, now move aside before I **make you**.”

Anders bursts into the room, breathless and sweaty. He must have run here through the passage from Darktown. The mage rushes to the other side of the bed and pulls her shirt up slightly to reveal the wounds. Fenris curses. They had opened on the walk to the estate and were slowly oozing blood. 

“How bad is it?” The warrior asks.

“She’ll have scars but she’ll live. Marian, I need you to stay awake.”

“Just let me sleep,” she moans quietly. 

Fenris grips her hand in both of his. 

“I know you’re grieving and in pain, but you can’t fall asleep yet,” the elf tells her urgently as Anders pulls out a bag. 

She whimpers and squeezes his hands as the mage wipes her back with a cloth that smells like alcohol. It stings like Andraste’s flaming sword and she tells them so. Anders tells her to focus on that pain to stay awake. He sews the gashes closed before sealing the skin together with a spell. 

“She needs to eat something: eggs, meat, fish, nuts, fruits and vegetables,” Anders lists off on his fingers. 

“I’ll ask Orana,” Fenris nods, moving to leave but Marian has a vice grip on his hands. 

“I need you both to stay. **Please** , don’t leave me,” she begs. 

“I will stay,” the elf assures her. “But you need to eat.”

She studies his face for a moment before she nods and releases him. He hurries out of the room to find Orana. Anders stays, rubbing an ointment onto her wounds. 

“Anders-“

“Don’t.”

“I just-“

“Marian, it’s okay. I’m staying.”

She turns her face into the pillow and cries. He strokes her hair and rubs her arm. 

“What am I gonna tell Bethany? And Gamlen, he’ll want to know what I found.”

“Spare them the truth. They don’t need to know the details.”

“I can’t face Gamlen yet,” she says between gasping sobs. “Kilian will ask where she is.”

“Don’t worry about any of that right now, love,” he hushes her. “Right now, just rest and let go.”

Anders manages to coax her into eating fish and eggs before casting a sleep spell on her and the two men tucking her under the blanket. They look at each other sadly before climbing into the bed on either side of her, holding her close.


	8. Chapter 8

_Bethany,_

_I failed. Mother was taken by a serial killer and I was too late to save her. I’m sorry. I was with her when she died, she wasn’t alone. This is my fault for not taking better care of her. I hope you can forgive me. Just know that I killed the bastard that murdered her._

_Marian_

Gamlen does not take the news well. He shouts at Marian while she just stares at him blankly. She refuses to let Anders leave, though she knows she can’t expect Fenris to stay. Kilian asks where his gramma is and Anders tells him she had to go see his grandfather. The rogue’s back does scar and she resigns to think of them as a mark of her failure. 

The locket has a small portrait of her grandparents, and the scrap of paper is the drawing Kilian had made of their little family, including Bodhan, Sandal, and Orana. Only two days after Leandra’s death, Isabela and Aveline come to the estate, arguing. 

“This is important! Don’t interrupt with your selfish prattle!”

“Get off your high horse! I have problems too!”

Aveline scoffs. “‘What drink should I order’ and ‘who’s the father?’”

Marian bristles at that last comment as Isabela raises a hand to slap the guard captain. 

“Enough, both of you!” Marian shouts before her hit can land. “What’s going on?”

“Hawke, the Arishok is sheltering two fugitives who have ‘converted’ to the Qun. He must be convinced to release them. He’s already feared because of Petrice. If people start to think he can ignore the law… I need your help so this doesn’t get out of hand!”

“I’m going to die!” Isabela butts in and nudges Aveline aside, much to the guard captain’s annoyance. “There. Got your attention. Real problem.”

“Hold on,” Marian says tiredly, rubbing a hand across her forehead. “What’s this about?”

“Remember the relic? The one Castillon is going to kill me over? A man called Wall-Eyed Sam has it.” The pirate gives Marian a desperate look. “If you help me get it, Castillon won’t kill me. Please!”

“I’m trying to keep the entire city from rioting against the Qunari!” Aveline shouts at Isabela. 

“Well…” Isabela hesitates as she turns to look at the fireplace. “Maybe it’s connected.”

“ **What**?” Marian and Aveline say in unison. 

“I’m just saying maybe it will help. It’s important to someone, right?”

“ **Now** you start being responsible? Shit.”

“Isn’t is it odd that someone would run **to** the Qunari?” Marian asks, shaking her head. 

“They’re elves accused of murder. Maybe they feel they’ve nothing to lose by fleeing the alienage.”

“And if their conversion is genuine?”

“I… don’t know. But how many more will try it if I allow this? Justice must be respected.”

“You’re expecting trouble?”

“After what happened to the viscount’s son? Yes. I’m hoping the Qunari aren’t looking for a fight. I’m hoping they’ll be reasonable. But we’ll see.”

“You’re **sure** this is the relic you’re after?” She gives Isabela a hard look, and she squirms under her gaze. 

“I’ve had my ear to the ground for a while. There was a description of the book. It’s the right one.”

“Book?” Marian narrows her eyes. “I thought you didn’t know what the relic was.”

“Well, I…” the pirate shifts nervously. “I know it’s a book. But that’s all I know. It’s written in a foreign tongue. Honestly, what does it matter? It’ll save me from Castillon, so I need it.”

“The relic issue has to be solved before I can deal with the Qunari,” Marian sighs as Aveline scoffs. 

“You really trust her this much?”

“Probably not,” Isabela pipes up. “I wouldn’t.” 

“They won’t wait at the compound forever, Hawke. I really do hope this helps, because if it doesn’t…”

“You think I like having this thing on my mind?” Isabela snaps. “Come on, the exchange is happening tonight in a Lowtown foundry.”

—

“What are the Qunari doing here?”

“Er… yes. About that. The relic belongs to the Qunari, and there’s a small chance they want it back.”

“Do the Qunari look like the sharing type to you? Of course they want it back!” Marian shouts at her, making the pirate cringe. 

“I’ve always known what the relic is. I just didn’t want to… worry you.” Marian gives her a murderous look and she continues quickly. “The relic is a Qunari text handwritten by that philosopher of theirs -Keslan, Cousland… whatever his name is. I stole it from them, they followed me to reclaim it, and it’s why they’re still in Kirkwall.”

Aveline shouts at Isabela and the two argue while Marian contemplates what to do. She agrees to give Isabela the relic and they enter the foundry. The pirate runs outside after Wall-Eyed Sam and when they follow her, she’s long gone. 

“Shit,” Marian sighs, cursing her own stupidity. 

—

“Bethany!”

The fight is over and Marian runs to her sister, pulling her into a hard embrace.

“What are you doing in Kirkwall at a time like this?”

“Loghain brought us on Grey Warden business and we got caught in the middle,” the mage explains sadly, holding her sister close for a moment before pulling away. “I got your letter about mother. When I got the news, the Wardens helped me build a wake. I’m... glad you were with her, in her final moments.”

“I’m sorry, Beth,” Marian sighs, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright? Are you injured? Are there more of you?”

“I’m fine, sister. We’re not the help you need, however.”

Warden Loghain gives his thanks for her help and explains that he and his men cannot interfere. Marian is forced to say goodbye to her sister again and she fights to maintain her composure. She feels a calloused hand on her shoulder and looks to see Anders beside her, wearing a sympathetic look. The rogue frowns at him and pulls away. 

—

“Here is your viscount,” the Arishok says flatly, tossing the man’s head down the stairs. 

“You dare? You are starting a war!”

 _Snap._

“Look at you. Like fat dathrasi you feed and feed and complain only when your meal is interrupted,” the qunari thunders. “You do not look up. You do not see that the grass is bare. All you leave in your wake is misery. You are blind. I will make you see.”

Marian stalks toward the bottom of the stairs as the Arishok walks down to meet her. 

“Shanedan, Hawke. I expected you. Maraas toh ebra-shok. You alone are basalit-an. This is what respect looks like, bas! Some of you will never earn it! So tell me, Hawke: you know I cannot withdraw. How would you resolve this conflict?”

“Isabela stole the Tome of Koslun. We find her and you can leave Kirkwall,” she answers cautiously. 

“And is this not one of your companions? One I suspect you aided.”

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, then gives the Arishok an apologetic look. 

“I admit when you say it like that, it does sound bad.”

“You will answer for the crimes of those who serve you. Their offense is yours.”

“Arishokost!” Fenris calls from behind her. “Qun-anaam ebra-toh. You have granted this woman basalit-an. By this omission, she now has the right to challenge you.”

“If you truly knew the Qun, elf, you would not suggest I battle a female.”

“But she is no female,” Fenris argues. “She is a respected outsider, by your own words.”

“What say you, Hawke? Do you agree to a duel?”

“What should I know about this duel?” Marian asks warily. 

“We fight to the death, you and I alone. Kill me and the duty that binds me is ended. The others will return to Par Vollen.”

“And if you kill me?”

“Then you are dead.”

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, then looks at Fenris. He nods slightly, his face blank. 

“All right,” she sighs. “Let’s do this.”

“Meravas! So shall it be!”

The crowd scrambles aside as the two opponents move to the center of the room and Fenris nearly has to drag Anders up the stairs. There is no circling or testing, the Arishok charges in headlong and Marian barely dodges in time to avoid his blades. She knows she can’t best him in strength, but she’s nimble and quick so she can maneuver around him. He spins around and lunges at her again, she jumps aside. 

She lets him push her back until she runs back to the wall to walk up the stone and flip over his back, dragging her daggers across his shoulders and down his back. He lets out a roar of rage and spins around to swing at her. She skips back just in time, his blade slicing through her armor easily and into her chest. She backs away as he advances. 

Anders shouts Marian’s name when the Arishok cuts her chest, and Fenris has to hold the mage back from running to her. 

“That thing is gonna kill her!”

“She can defeat him.”

“He’s three times her size!”

“You underestimate her.”

Anders watches helplessly as the fight continues, Marian continually being backed against a wall only to duck aside at the last second. But for every blow he lands against her, she returns, and in more deadly places. She cuts the back of his knee, sending him to the ground and she holds a blade to his neck. 

“Yield!” She shouts. 

He lashes out wildly, making her leap back. 

“My antaam will not leave unless I am dead,” he growls. “You knew this from the start.”

“You have to kill him, Marian,” Fenris calls from above. 

She snarls in frustration. She hates killing people if she doesn’t have to. Unless they absolutely deserve it. Like slavers. _Focus, Marian!_ She shouts at herself. The Arishok is still on his knee and she rushes forward to kick him onto his back, then leaps onto him. She hesitates and he stabs her deep in the side. She hears a distant scream as her vision narrows and adrenaline floods her system. 

Marian sinks her blades into the Arishok’s neck, and slices his throat open. With a wet gurgle his hand drops, though his weapon is still lodged in her side. She slides off his body onto the floor, the blade coming loose and she cries out in pain. 

“ **MARIAN!** ” 

Anders is beside her seemingly in no time flat, applying pressure to her side. She frowns up at him, coughing and tasting blood. 

“Anders, I’m sorry,” she groans. 

“Don’t talk, you’ll make it worse.”

“I shouldn’t have said you’d be dangerous around our son,” the rogue continues, then spits out a mouthful of blood.

She can feel more than see his magic working deep in her side. Fenris is there, taking her hand and lifting her head. 

“Ah, Fenris,” she smiles. “Don’t be alone.”

“You are going to live, stop talking.”

“I want you two to get along, to stay together.”

“Marian, _please_ stop talking,” Anders begs. 

She screams when he pours some liquid over the wound, making it sting like the Maker’s wrath. The mage hands Fenris a bottle and the elf forces her mouth open to make her drink it. It’s bitter and thick, she chokes on it and they have to turn her on her good side. She vaguely hears the two men talking. 

“Her lung just collapsed,” Anders hisses. 

“How do we fix it?”

“I need to close this stab wound first. Thankfully he didn’t use poison.”

“Her chest is also bleeding.”

“Can you stitch a wound?”

“I know enough to get it done.”

Marian can feel them cutting off her armor, followed by a sharp poking and pulling around her wounds. She swats at them weakly but her hand is easily brushed aside. 

“I need a clean blade.”

Something is passed over her, then another, smaller stabbing pain on her ribcage and she flinches. Fenris holds her still as a hissing escapes her side and she can breathe easy again. More pulling and poking, then another potion forced down her throat.

“It seems Kirkwall has a new champion,” comes a familiar voice from behind Fenris. 

—

Isabela doesn’t return, and the Qunari return to Par Vollen as the Arishok promised. Fenris stays at Marian’s estate while Anders treats her. The elf begrudgingly watches over Kilian, keeping the child occupied while his mother is out of commission. Anders had confirmed she would live before they even brought her home. As awkward as it is, Fenris is glad to be distracting Kilian rather than helping arrange Marian’s funeral. 

She has been declared Champion of Kirkwall, a title she’s not been coherent enough to hear yet. The rogue has been unconscious for most of the past three days. She occasionally wakes enough to be spoon fed broth and doses of healing potions. The mage says she’s healing well and should wake for longer periods soon. Kilian often asks to see his parents, and Anders spends time with his son on occasion but the majority of his time is spent watching over Marian 

“She’s pregnant,” the mage tells Fenris on the fifth day, wearing a conflicted expression. 

“How do you know?”

“I’m a healer, I can sense these things when I’m working on a patient.”

“I see.”

“I want you to know I really appreciate your help with Kilian. He likes you, you know.”

“I know.” 

Fenris is left to his thoughts once more when they hear a groan from the bedroom. Kilian starts a string of questions at the elf. 

“Where do you live?”

“Here in the city.”

“Do you have a house?”

“I have a mansion.”

“Did you buy it?”

“I stole it.”

“Why?”

“It is a long story.”

“Do you have a job?”

“Sometimes.”

“What do you do?”

“A lot of things.”

“Where’s your office?”

“I do not have one.”

“Why?”

“I do not need one.”

“Where’s your wife?”

“I do not have one.”

“Why?”

“It is a long story.”

“Do you have children?”

“No, I do not.”

“Why?”

“It is an even longer story.”

“Are you my mama’s friend?”

“What is your record for consecutive questions asked?”

“What does ‘consecutive’ mean?”

“Following continuously.”

“What does ‘continuously’ mean?”

“Without interruption.”

“What does ‘interruption’ mean?”

Fenris sighs. 

“What is your record for questions asked in a row?”

“Papa said it was 38.”

The elf takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. 

“Yes, I am your mother’s friend.”

“You have more stuff on your skin than mama.”

“How kind of you to notice.”

Kilian laughs. Fenris sighs, but smiles despite himself. He thought _Anders_ never shut up but clearly the mage’s son gave him a run for his money. The questions continue. 

—

Fenris ends up putting Kilian to sleep with a story of how he escaped a group of Danarius’s bounty hunters while traveling through Antiva. Minus the violent murders of said bounty hunters. He had a feeling Marian wouldn’t appreciate him telling her son tales of death and violence. Once the child is asleep, Fenris takes a quiet breath and slips out of the room. Making his way to Marian’s room, he overhears a groggy conversation. 

“Another child? But I was taking your potions.”

“They aren’t infallible, love. These things happen sometimes… what do you want to do?”

“Do you think you’d be ready for a second child?”

“I think so,” Anders chuckles, which Marian returns weakly. 

Fenris closes his eyes and sighs quietly. They are a family, and he would be intruding on a balanced dynamic. He should leave. 

“Where’s Fenris? Who’s watching Kilian?”

“Fenris is watching Kilian.”

“What, really?”

“Really.”

“The child is asleep,” the elf says, leaning against the doorframe, making the parents look over at him. 

“I don’t know how to thank you, Fenris,” Marian sighs, leaning her head back against the pillows. 

She is propped up against the headboard, pale and clammy, her hair sticking to her face. Her eyes are full of dulled pain but also carry a certain level of gratitude. 

“Thank me with a swift and easy recovery.”

She laughs slightly then coughs a little. Anders shakes his head at her with a small smile. 

“Did he give you any trouble?”

“He asks a lot of questions,” he sighs with the barest hint of a smile. 

“He does that,” Anders laughs. 

“How do you feel?”

“Like I got stabbed in the liver and had a collapsed lung,” Marian drawls. 

“Of course,” Fenris rolls his eyes, then gives them an awkward look. “I should go back to my mansion. You’re awake now and surely your servants can take my place.”

“Fenris-“

“Until next time, Hawke.”

Without another word, the elf turns on his heel and leaves.


	9. Chapter 9

To Marian’s surprise, Fenris came to protect her during her pregnancy again. He didn’t talk with her like he used to, but he seemed softer somehow. He didn’t glare at Anders when he came close to Marian, or start circular arguments with the mage. Anders wasn’t hostile towards the elf at all, the two men seemed to have come to an easy peace. For whose benefit, she didn’t know for certain. 

Their friends all accepted the news of this second pregnancy with joy and congratulations. Except Sebastian. They had met him shortly before rescuing Nathaniel Howe, and he met with Fenris in his mansion often, along with Donnic. Sebastian had curled his lip slightly when he first learned that Anders was Kilian’s father, and when they meet at the Hanged man to announce that Marian is pregnant again… 

“Do you wish your children to live in fear of their father, Hawke? Do you truly think he won’t turn on you again?”

“Leave it be, Sebastian,” Fenris growls, surprising everyone. 

The exiled prince and the elf glare at each other for a long time before Sebastian looks away with a huff and leaves Varric’s room. Fenris seems unruffled.

—

“Anders?”

He freezes, recognizing that voice. Anders only has one more patient for the night and he closes his eyes for a moment to compose himself. 

“Just a moment please, I’m almost done.”

She says nothing until the patient thanks him and leaves, closing the door behind them. As soon as the door is shut, she throws herself at him, kissing him and hugging him. He grips her shoulders and holds her away from him. 

“Why are you-“

“I can’t,” he whispers. 

“I heard what happened to Karl,” she says sadly, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “I was devastated when I got the news. But now you can come back to Amaranthine.”

“Naria, I **can’t** ,” he insists. 

Kilian fusses sleepily from his little pen in the corner. Naria furrows her brow and looks over at the source of the noise.

“Why do you have a child with you?” She shakes her head. “Why are you acting so strangely?”

“He’s mine.”

“What?”

“He’s my son.”

“That’s impossible, Anders, why lie?”

“It’s not a lie. I’m happy here. I’m helping people.”

“Why are you saying this? Don’t you care about me? What happened to you?”

“I made a life here. I have a family, friends, this clinic. I have no intention of going anywhere.”

“You can’t be serious?”

“I am serious.”

“No,” she says quietly, tearing up. “Why are you saying these things, what’s gotten into you!”

“Ria, please-“

“ **Don’t** ,” she snaps, jerking out of his grip. “Don’t ‘Ria’ me. I thought you and Karl were dead after never hearing from you. Why didn’t you write to me?”

“I wasn’t in a good place and as time went by, I just decided it would be better if you thought I was dead.”

“That’s **BULLSHIT** , Anders!” She shouts, getting in his face. 

Kilian lets out a wail at the noise and Anders sighs. 

“This is a bad time, Naria,” he begins. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry I inconvenienced you by coming all the way across the Narrow Sea to find your thankless ass!”

“Anders, what’s going on?”

Marian is standing at the door, looking between the two Wardens. Kilian is crying in the corner, grasping out his little fists for his father. Anders curses when he sees Naria staring at Marian’s very pregnant belly. 

“Is this your baby whore?” The elf snaps. 

“Don’t talk to her like that!” Anders shouts. 

“Who is this?” Marian demands. 

“Marian, this is-“

“His Warden Commander,” Naria snarls. 

The Champion just stares between them, lost for words. With a sigh, Anders walks over to pick up Kilian and hush the boy. 

“No yelling,” the child whines.

“I knew Justice would change you, but I didn’t expect anything like **this**.”

“I didn’t plan this, Naria,” he sighs as his son clings to his clothes desperately. “I thought-“

“I don’t care what you thought!” She shouts again, making Kilian flinch. “I lost you once, then I lost Alistair, I **opened my heart to you** , and you do this? What does Justice have to say about this?”

“Leave him out of it!”

“Anders, would you **please** tell me what in the Maker’s Name is going on?”

“We were together with Karl in the Circle, then we found each other again in Amaranthine,” Naria says icily, wiping tears from her face. “I let him escape the Wardens to find Karl so the two of them could be free. But then I hear that Karl was made Tranquil, then killed. And I heard nothing about Anders for **years** until Nathaniel fucking Howe told me he saw you in the Deep Roads! So of course, I came to find you, to bring you **home** ,” her voice breaks on the last word. 

“I’m sorry,” Anders says, his voice thick. 

“ **FUCK YOUR ‘SORRY’**!”

“Anders, give me Kilian,” Marian says quietly, walking over to take him. 

“Naria, I’m not going back,” he says as Marian moves to the corner with the three year old. 

“I’m not going to drag you back. I **love** you, Anders,” the elf sobs. “I want you to be happy. But you didn’t have to hide from me.”

“If I could go back, I would tell you everything.”

“Well you didn’t and here we are. Nate didn’t report your presence to Weisshaupt, and neither will I. As far as the Wardens know, you died years ago. I’ll try to keep it that way.”

“I know I don’t deserve it, but thank you.”

“I’m glad you found happiness,” she sighs shakily. “I missed you. So much.”

“I missed you, too.”

“Did you?” She asks evenly, her eyes flicking to Marian then back to him. “Not enough, it seems.”

“Naria-“

She holds up a hand to silence him. 

“It’s for the best. I found someone else, too. He is… it doesn’t matter now.” She straightens her back. “You’re as free as you can be, Anders. I hope you make the most of it. Now, I should go back to Amaranthine before Nate runs it into the ground.”

She turns and leaves, and Anders doesn’t stop her. After a few moments, Marian approaches the mage. 

“Honey, are you okay?”

“No, not really,” he says flatly. 

“Come on, let’s go home.”

—

“So she was the girl you didn’t want to talk about?” Marian asks quietly that night, as they’re laying in bed. 

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

“I left on one of my many escape attempts, she was recruited to the Grey Wardens. I was eventually caught near Amaranthine when she was named Commander of the Grey in Fereldan. She conscripted me. We… were together again. We heard that Karl had been transferred to Kirkwall and she let me go. We made it look like I had died so that no one would come after me. When Karl… I didn’t want to see anyone from before that. So I didn’t tell her anything.”

“And then?”

“And then you came along and turned my world upside down.”

She feels him reaching out for her in the dark and she shifts closer, pulling him close to rest his head over her heart. He wraps his arms around her waist and their legs tangle together. He lets out a heavy sigh, a shaking breath as he trembles. 

“It’s okay, Anders, I’m here for you. You’re alright,” she whispers, kissing his hair. 

She feels his quiet tears on her chest and she rubs his shoulders as he takes deep, shuddering breaths. She doesn’t know how long they stay like that before she falls asleep, tired from the stress of the confrontation.

—

When the time comes, Marian refuses to let anyone but Anders and Orana in the room while she gives birth. Fenris doesn’t know how she’ll cope without having her mother with her this time. This time, he sits in Kilian’s room, keeping the boy occupied while his parents are… busy. Every so often he hears Marian crying out from down the hall and both Fenris and Kilian look at up at the noise. 

“Ferris?”

“Yes, child?”

“Is mama okay?”

“She is having a baby, it’s not easy.”

“It sounds like it hurts.”

“It does.”

The boy falls quiet, playing with little toy horses and soldiers. Fenris takes a deep breath, as quietly as he can manage. He’s worried, but he knows better than to let Kilian see it. He has this feeling like he should be there to see this child be born, but he brushes it aside as ridiculous. It’s not his place to intrude on such an intimate event. 

They hear Marian let out a gut wrenching scream and a sob, followed only a few seconds by the unmistakable cry of a baby. Some of the tension leaves Fenris’s shoulders and he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. Kilian drops his toys and stands, looking ready to run out of the room. 

“Boy, wait!” 

Kilian leans forward but doesn’t move, just stares at the door. For a moment he hears Anders raise his voice, sounding angry but Fenris can’t make out the muffled words through the walls. The mage is arguing with her, though her replies can’t be heard at all. The wails of the newborn die down after several moments and then a door opens, followed by footsteps approaching down the hall. The door of Kilian’s room opens and Anders enters. 

His hair is disheveled, his face is red, but he just looks tired. The mage plucks his son from the floor and holds him against his hip. Looking over at Fenris in the chair, he sighs. 

“You need to come see this,” the mage says flatly. 

“I don’t think-“

“Fenris, you need to see her.”

“...very well.”

The elf stands and follows Anders to the master bedroom. The mage stops outside the room and gestures for him to enter. 

“Kilian can wait to meet her.”

“But papa-“ the boy starts to whine. 

“She’s not going anywhere, Kilian, be patient.”

So it’s a girl. Fenris takes another deep breath and enters the room. Like the first time, Marian is in the bed, looking like she had been through a war. In her arms is the bundle of blankets he knows contains Anders’s daughter. Why they insist he see her, he doesn’t know. The rogue looks up at him and gives him a sheepish but tired smile. 

“Take off your gauntlets,” she murmurs. 

“I am not-“

“ _Please_ , just trust me, Fenris.”

He sighs and does as she asks, setting them on the bedside table. When Fenris turns to look at Marian again, he catches sight of the baby in her arms and freezes. She has green eyes, ears that are ever so slightly pointed, and skin almost as dark as his. 

“Breathe, Fenris,” Marian urges him, and he sucks in a deep breath. 

“It was one night,” he shakes his head, closing his eyes against this impossible child. 

“Even just once, there’s always a chance. Come sit down.”

He sinks onto the edge of the bed, then stares at the child in disbelief. 

“Estella,” Marian whispers, rubbing a finger against the girl’s chubby cheek. “What do you think of that, Fenris?”

“I… it’s perfect. She’s…”

“I know.”

Marian reaches out to touch Fenris’s hand and he jumps a little at the unexpected contact. She scoots a little closer to him, then pulls his hand up to touch the baby’s face. He’s shocked at how soft her cheek is. 

“Do you want to hold her?”

He hesitates, then pulls back and shakes his head jerkily. 

“I… I don’t think…”

“You need to step up, Fenris,” comes Anders’s flat voice behind him. 

“Don’t pressure him right now, Anders,” Marian protests weakly. 

“I’m being honest, if he’s not around then this child is going to grow up wondering why she’s different from us and she’ll have an even harder childhood than she already will.”

“I…” Fenris stands and backs away from the bed. “This is too much, it’s too sudden, I…”

“Go do whatever you need to do to step up, or leave and don’t come back,” Anders says coldly as he sets Kilian on the bed. 

Fenris practically bolts out the door, once again running from his chance at real happiness.


	10. Chapter 10

“This type of feeling does not come and go. I ignored it for so long, buried it deep inside me until I fooled myself into thinking it wasn’t real. I felt… like I was intruding on your… relationship. But now you tell me I should have stayed and I know I was wrong.”

“You want to be part of our lives? Including Kilian’s?” Marian asks quietly. 

“...yes, but more than that. That night, I was… overwhelmed. I couldn’t… I should have stayed. Told you _both_ how I felt.”

“What would you have said?” Anders asks stiffly. 

“Nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you.”

—

When Fenris holds his daughter for the first time, he feels a hard lump form in his throat and he can’t speak. He’s sitting in the rocking chair in the corner of the nursery with Kilian hovering over his shoulder. The boy keeps his eyes narrowed at Fenris, suspicious and protective of his new baby sister. The elf cradles Estella in one arm, then slowly reaches out to rest his hand on Kilian’s head. 

“Do not fear, Kilian,” he says softly, vaguely noticing Marian perk up. “I will protect her with my life.”

“You better! I kick your butt if you hurt ‘Stella!”

Marian laughs quietly from her spot on the floor. He looks over at her and smiles softly, ruffling Kilian’s hair. Estella makes a fussing noise and he looks down at her in alarm as she squirms against him. Fenris gives Marian a panicked look as Estella whines, so the rogue stands and walks over to take the baby from him. 

“What he do!” Kilian says loudly, making his sister give a small wail. 

“Shh, don’t yell little man you’ll scare her. She’s just hungry, go play in your room.”

“But-“ 

“Go on!”

Kilian folds his arms and puffs out his cheeks, glaring stubbornly up at his mother who raises her eyebrows at him. 

“Do you want me to tell papa you were being bad while he was working?”

It works and the boy stomps out of the room as Fenris stands to let Marian sit in the rocking chair. She had just got settled with feeding the baby when they hear a crash from down the hall. Fenris frowns at the door as Marian sighs. 

“She’s not even a week old and he’s behaving like this,” she mutters. “Fenris, would you ask Bodahn to go to the clinic and see when Anders will be home?”

“I can go myself if you’d like,” he offers but she shakes her head. 

“I want you to stay. Kilian needs to get used to you being around Estella.”

“If you think it would be best,” he agrees, and does as she asks. 

When he’s making his way down the hall back to the nursery, he hears another crash from Kilian’s room. Fenris pauses, looking at the boy’s door then at the nursery door. With a sigh he taps his knuckles on Kilian’s open door, standing in the doorway. The room is a mess with toys, clothes, and crumpled papers strewn across the floor. Kilian is standing in the middle of the room, huffing and puffing, looking like he’s about to throw a toy duck at the wall but stops when he sees Fenris. 

“What’s the matter?” Fenris asks awkwardly as he crouches to get on the toddler’s level. 

“You made sister cry!”

“I did not mean to. I’m new to this, just like you. But you seem to be better with her. Can you help me, Kilian?”

Kilian sniffs, lowering the duck but not dropping it. 

“Why you here?”

Fenris hesitates. He’s only interacted with children a few times in his travels, though they were older than Kilian is now. But in his experience, honesty works best. 

“I’m Estella’s father.”

“You’re her papa?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Papa is her papa, she’s sister!”

Fenris’s heart clenches. 

“Children can have different papas and still be brother and sister. You both share a mama, right?”

Kilian furrows his brow and frowns. 

“Why we have different papas?”

“Your mama loves me very much, and so does your papa. People who love each other can have babies.”

“Mama loves you?”

“That’s what she tells me,” Fenris sighs.

“If mama loves you, she trusts you?”

“Yes, Kilian, your parents trust me.”

The boy huffs and drops the duck to wipe his wet face. He walks up to the elf and gives him what Fenris assumes is supposed to be an intimidating glare (but it’s honestly quite cute). 

“I watching you, Ferris.” 

“I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Fenris finds a cloth to wipe the boy’s face clean of snot and tears from his meltdown, then helps Kilian clean the room. He doesn’t know how long he’s been away from Marian and the baby when they finish and hear Orana calling them to dinner. He’s surprised when Kilian grabs the leg of his pants and pulls him out toward the dining room, but it draws a small smile to the elf’s face. 

When they reach the dining room Kilian gives a wide grin and runs up to Orana, who scoops him up and sits him in the high chair at the end of the table. Fenris excuses himself to go check on Estella and nearly walks into Marian as she enters the room. 

“There you are, where have you been?”

“I helped Kilian clean his room,” he answers awkwardly. 

“Really?” She looks surprised as they sit at the table. “I’m shocked he didn’t chuck something at you.”

“He almost did.”

—

**There is another meeting tonight. We must remind them of the urgency of our purpose. _You_ must remember.**

_I haven’t forgotten, Justice._

How could he possibly forget when this spirit fills nearly every waking moment with the need to do more, push for more, **fight** for more. He’s slowly running out of time. He can feel it in his bones. 

It’s sometime after midnight when he sends the other rebel mages off into Darktown, then makes his way through the secret passage back home. The first thing he does when he arrives is go to check on the children. Kilian is sleeping peacefully in his little bed, dead to the world. Anders sighs quietly and brushes his son’s curly hair out of his face as gently as he can, then leans in to press his lips to his forehead softly. 

In the nursery he can hear Estella starting to fuss, as newborns do. He carefully takes her in his arms and sits with her in the rocking chair, resting her on his chest and he leans back and forth trying to soothe her before she truly begins to cry. He murmurs soft assurances to the girl as he rubs her back and she makes a soft cooing noise. 

Leaning his head back, the mage sighs tiredly. The very next morning after Estella was born, Fenris came back to the estate nearly begging to see her. It pleased Anders to see the elf facing this head-on, to see him chasing what he wants instead of fleeing from his emotions. Just thinking about that day makes the mage smile. He closes his eyes for just a moment…

“Anders.”

He jerks awake, his hands still holding Estella against his chest as Marian stands over him. He sighs and closes his eyes again, rubbing the baby’s back for a moment before sitting up and shifting his hold on her to hand her off to Marian so he can stand. His lover tucks the baby against her chest with one arm before pulling him into a soft kiss. He lets out a quiet breath. 

“What time is it?”

“Dawn,” she whispers back. “Go to bed, I’ll feed her then join you there.”

Anders nods sleepily and leaves as she sits in the rocking chair he just vacated.

—

Once Marian is asleep, Justice sits up in the bed. It studies her calmly for a moment before slipping out of the bed as quietly as it can without disturbing her. It walks silently down the hall to the boy’s room, pushing the door open with the slightest creak. As it enters the room the child mumbles in his sleep, and it hesitates. He sighs and resumes his deep sleep. The spirit approaches the crib and stares blankly down at the son of it’s host, contemplating it’s next action. 

It knows it’s taking Anders down a path he won’t be able to come back from. But he chose this fate when he accepted Justice into his soul. It does not feel guilt. Guilt is not in its nature. And yet here it is. Standing over this child, this pure and innocent child, that will do anything to protect his sister. A just child. And with that thought, Justice’s decision is made. 

A glowing hand reaches over the side of the crib to rest on the crown of Kilian’s head. 

“ **I touch this child with the steady burn of Justice. Let him seek it in his every deed, his every desire. Let him chase it with a firey passion that cannot be extinguished. This child will fan the spark of rebellion into the flame of freedom across the Waking World.** ”

His eyes jerk open with a flash of blue light, gasping in shock for just a moment before falling out of consciousness once more. Anders will not remember this. 

—

“For the tenth time, yes I can handle the children without you. I have Bodahn and Orana to help me, plus they go to bed soon anyway and after they’re asleep it’s like they aren’t even here,” Marian insists, Estella swaddled in a sling against her chest. 

“Alright, we’ll be back…”

“Tomorrow,” Fenris inserts, making Anders blush lightly.

“We’ll see you tomorrow then,” she smirks. 

Anders peels Kilian off his leg and gives him a kiss on the head. His son was never happy when he left the house. 

“I’ll be back in the morning, little man,” he says with a chuckle as Kilian pouts. 

“Ferris better be nice!”

Both Anders and Marian burst out laughing as Fenris sighs and shifts his weight awkwardly. The two men leave and walk through Hightown in comfortable silence. 

“How did you learn Wicked Grace?” Anders asks casually. 

“Varric taught me. I don’t believe you were there that night. I picked it up easily enough, and was surprised to find I enjoyed it.”

“It’s good you can take pleasure in the small things.”

“Yes,” Fenris agrees with a crooked smile. 

They reach the abandoned mansion and set up the sitting room table with cards and drinks from the cellar. Donnic arrives first, with Varric not far behind him. 

“I thought Choir Boy was coming,” Varric comments as he sits at the table. 

“I’m sure he’ll be along eventually,” Fenris says dismissively. 

“You’re up as dealer, Varric,” Anders speaks up, leaning back in his chair. 

“I don’t think so, he likes to cheat,” Donnic interrupts, swiping the deck before the dwarf can reach it. 

“Guardsman, I’m shocked.” Varric clutches his chest dramatically. “Me, a cheater? I’m insulted.”

“Go ahead and be insulted,” Donnic smirks, shuffling the deck before dealing cards.

They’re nearly seven turns into the game when Sebastian arrives, looking mildly annoyed. 

“Good, you made it!” Varric crows with a grin. “Sit down, we’ll deal you in.”

The prince sits between Donnic and Fenris, shooting Anders a dark look. The mage sighs internally. He knew this would happen if he came here. He takes a swig from his mug and clears his throat awkwardly. 

“How are you getting along with Blondie the second?” Varric asks Fenris before Anders can speak. 

“He is wary of me, and very protective of Estella,” the elf sighs, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. 

“You should’ve been around him more from the beginning, not just when Waffles got pregnant again,” Varric frowns. 

“Kilian likes you, he just likes his sister more,” Anders teases, nudging the elf with his elbow.

“Aveline asked me about children the other day,” Donnic pipes up with a chuckle. “I think Marian gave her baby fever.”

“Good luck with that,” the mage laughs. 

Sebastian snorts and shakes his head. 

“You’ve made no secret of your intent to lead the mages here in revolution,” the archer says, looking straight at Anders. 

Donnic and Varric tense as Fenris glares at him, but the mage just stares back. 

“Well I’ve tried not to shout it from the rooftops,” Anders says dryly. “You’ve just been around when I talk with my friends.”

“Well as we have mutual friends, who for some reason don’t want you to get hurt, let me tell you this: if you go forward with this revolt, the Chantry will bring its full might to bear. They will kill you.”

“Andraste was killed. That doesn’t mean she failed.”

Sebastian raises his eyebrows and snorts. 

“Do not compare yourself to Andraste!”

“I’m not, I’m making a point.”

“This isn’t why we invited you here,” Fenris interrupts, still glaring at Sebastian. 

“Very well.”

The table falls into an uncomfortable silence until Varric predictably launches into a story about his escapades in the Merchants Guild. The night ends in higher spirits, Sebastian being the first to leave followed by Donnic. 

“Maybe don’t take the bait the next time chantry boy pokes you,” Varric says to Anders as he’s walking out the door. 

“That’s like asking Aveline to quit the guard,” Fenris quips, making the dwarf laugh. 

“Have fun, you two. Don’t drink too much.” 

Anders closes the door behind Varric and sighs. 

“Why did you invite Vael?”

“I always do,” the elf shrugs. 

The two men bring their drinks up to Fenris’s room and settle on the couch there. They sit in comfortable silence for a time, drinking their alcohol and relaxing against each other. The mage rests an arm on the couch behind Fenris. 

“You once said I don’t have the temperament for a slave,” Fenris says suddenly, making Anders tense. “I never spoke out about anything until I escaped. I never knew anything but being under my master’s thumb. As a slave, you don’t think about escaping or the world outside your prison. Only what your master’s next command will be.”

The mage stays silent, not wanting to make him feel like he can’t talk. 

“I’ve only told Marian this, but I don’t remember anything of my life before I had these markings,” he continues, holding up a hand to look at the marks on his fingers. “My first memory is of the pain that ritual inflicted on me, the greatest pain I’ve ever felt. Even now, they are sensitive to touch… You say the Circles are like slavery. I see the abuse mages suffer but I still fail to understand how you think the two are equivalent.”

“You wouldn’t understand unless you lived it. Just as I can’t fully understand what it was like for you to be under Danarius’s enslavement,” the mage replies quietly, reaching to stroke Fenris’s hair softly. “But I understand pain.”

The warrior twists in his seat to look up at Anders, studying him for a moment before leaning in to kiss him. The mage pulls him closer, long fingers running through white hair as they melt against each other. Fenris moves to straddle Anders’s lap, the mage resting his hands on the other man’s waist as their kiss deepens. 

The blonde’s fingers dig into the elf’s hips as the two move in time grinding against each other, like they’ve done this a thousand times but for the first time. Their passion rises and they move from the couch, Anders removing his shirt to let it fall to the floor as he pulls them both toward the bed. 

The light of the fireplace draws Fenris’s eye to the thick, puckered scars across the mage’s back and he freezes. Anders looks back, confused at the sudden rage on the warrior’s face. 

“Your back,” he manages to say in a strangled voice. 

“I’m sure you’ve seen worse,” Anders sighs, dismissive. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You wouldn’t have believed me if I tried. You didn’t really think all my escape attempts went unpunished?”

“It’s despicable!” It comes out as a snarl. 

“I’m surprised you feel that strongly about the way a mage is treated,” Anders says flatly, sitting on the edge of the mattress. “All the times I’d try to tell you how the Circles are a waking nightmare and you never believed me…”

“I should have listened. I have no words, Anders.”

“...come, let us speak no more of it tonight.”

The two make themselves comfortable together on the bed. The warrior pulls the mage’s face close, over his heart, so he can gently stroke the blonde hair there. Anders wraps an arm around the elf’s waist, tangling their legs together as they both sigh. Sleep does not come swiftly but they find comfort in each other’s touch. Fenris hums a familiar tune he doesn’t remember learning and lulls the mage to sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

“He should just move in already,” Marian says quietly. 

“There’s not enough room in the bed,” Anders whispers back, feigning annoyance. 

Fenris is asleep in the rocking chair, his armor on the floor and his torso bare for the sleeping baby on his chest. She looks up at the mage. 

“Should we wake him or let them stay like this a little longer?”

“He’s already awake,” he snickers, jerking his chin. 

Indeed, the warrior was looking around blearily while he absently rubs his daughter’s back. He catches their eye and glares at them with a blush. They snicker cause he can’t move and they know it. Fenris sighs and musses the baby’s hair gently, leaning his head back. 

—

“La la lu, la la lu, oh my little star sweeper. I’ll sweep the stardust for you.”

Marian peeks into the nursery to see Fenris cradling Estella, rocking her slowly in his arms as he sings softly.

“La la lu, la la lu, little soft fluffy sleeper. Here comes a pink cloud for you. La la lu, la la lu, little wandering angel. Fold up your wings, close your eyes. La la lu, la la lu, and may love be your keeper. La la lu, la la lu, la la lu. There now, little star sweeper. Dream on.”

Marian watches with watery eyes as he carefully lays the baby in her crib and covers her with her blanket. When he turns to leave he freezes, caught. She presses a finger to her lips and gestures for him to follow her outside. When he closes the door behind him, the rogue presses herself against him in a tender kiss. He chuckles and leans into it, resting his hands on her waist. 

—

Fenris is sitting on the floor with Estella, tickling her gently with a wide smile. Anders leans in from the couch and twangs the elf’s ear before quickly resuming his casual position. Fenris glares at the mage before returning his attention to the toddler. Anders does it again, twanging the ear twice this time. The warrior glares at him with a growl. 

“Enough!” He snaps. 

Anders leans in and is about to do it again when Fenris grabs the mage’s arm and drags him down to the floor next to the child, who giggles. Anders bites his lip to hold back a smile as Fenris scowls and shakes his head before leaning down to give Anders a brief kiss. 

“Is that what you wanted?”

“Maybe,” the mage chuckles. “I might need you to do it again just to be sure.”

—

Fenris kneels on the floor as Estella leans on the couch, looking around curiously. He holds out his hands beckoningly, encouraging her while Marian and Anders watch from the loveseat. 

“That’s it, princess, come to tata,” he coos as the girl stares at him with a furrow in her brow. 

Marian lets out a squeak of delight and Anders grins like an idiot. Fenris looks over at them with a smile, but frowns when he sees their faces. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” Marian says, barely containing a laugh. “Nothing at all.”

—

Fenris leans in to clip Estella’s nail but pulls away when she screams, eyes wide. She giggles wildly and he shakes his head with a little smile. He tries again, she screams again. More giggles. 

“Filia, be nice,” he says firmly. 

She pays him no mind and continues her game until he gives up and hands the girl off to her mother. 

—

“Why does sister call Ferris tata?”

“Fenris is from a place far away called Tevinter, and that’s what children there call their daddies,” Marian explains softly, touching a finger to Kilian’s nose. 

“Can I call him tata?”

Her heart squeezes and she laughs delightedly. 

“You should ask him that yourself.”

Kilian takes off running to find Fenris.

“Ferris!!”

—

Fenris steps blearily into Estella’s room to get her ready for the day and frowns when he sees Marian brushing their daughters hair. 

“That’s my job,” he says flatly. 

“Snooze you lose, honey,” Marian teases and the girl giggles. 

—

“We should have a family portrait done,” Anders suggests one day while the trio are in the library. 

“That’s a wonderful idea!” Marian gasps. 

“For what purpose?” Fenris sighs. “We know what we look like.”

“Don’t you want your baby girl immortalized in a painting with her family?” Marian asks, playing dirty. 

“...I suppose.”

“That’s what I thought!” She cackles. “Oooh, I’ll bring in a tailor to make appropriate clothes for the portrait.”

“What? No!” Anders protests, backpedaling.

“It’s too late to back out now honey, you planted the idea in my mind and now it’s happening. Estella would look lovely in yellow…” Marian muses. 

“No,” Fenris suddenly says. “She should wear pink.”

“Pink?”

“Yes,” he nods stubbornly. 

“Why pink?” 

“It’s her favorite color.”

“She’s two, her favorite color changes all the time.”

“She should wear pink,” Fenris insists. 

“Fenris. She’d look best in yellow, she’s wearing yellow.”

“She should wear pink,” he repeats, annoyed. 

Marian stares him down for a moment before sighing.

“Fine, she can wear pink.”

—

“Tata! Can we play princess and the dragon?”

“Do you want to be the dragon again?”

“No, brother is the dragon, I’ll be the knight that comes to rescue the princess! (That’s you, tata.) But first we have to make you pretty like a princess.”

“Of course we do,” he says matter-of-factly. 

He lets his daughter guide him to her room. The whole room is aggressively pink with lace and ruffles covering most of the furniture. She sits him down on her little chair in front of her little vanity and pulls a palette of Marian’s makeup out of a drawer. 

“Filia, you know you’re not supposed to touch mama’s makeup.”

“Shshhsh,” she hushes him, putting a finger to his lips. “It’ll be our secret, tata.”

—

The men gather the children on a pile of blankets and pillows on the floor between them, making sure they’re comfy and warm. 

“This is the story of the most foolish traveler in the world,” Fenris begins as Anders casts light and shadow figures on the ceiling. 

“Once upon a time, there was a foolish traveler who had gone on a journey. Why was he foolish? Well, because he was fooled by everyone he met!”

“Please, some money for medicine!” Anders says in a mock old woman’s voice, casting a shadow to match. 

“Everywhere he went, people made up all kinds of sad stories to tell him, and the traveler fell for every one of them.”

"’I have a sick younger sister…’ ‘I don't have money to buy seeds to plant in my fields.’”

“Pretty soon, his money, his clothes, even his shoes had been cheated away from him. But the foolish traveler was always glad to help. And he always told the people the same thing. He said: ‘I wish you happiness.’ 

But by this point, though, the traveler was completely naked, and with nothing left to cover himself, he decided to leave the main road and travel through the dense forest, where no one could see him…”

The shadows shift to show the traveller entering a forest, to be surrounded by simple yet slightly threatening looking figures. The children gasp quietly. 

“But soon, he was discovered by the goblins that lived in the woods. The goblins wanted to eat the traveler's body, so they begged and pleaded, and used  
kind words to try and trick him... Of course, the traveler was fooled.

First, he let the goblins eat one of his legs. Then an arm. Then more and more... Before it was over, all that the traveler had left was his head. He'd even given his eyes away to the last of the goblins... And as that last goblin was eating the traveler's eyes, he turned and said

‘Thank you, traveler. In return, I leave you this present.’”

A shadow of a head with a slip of paper in front of it as Estella whines sadly. 

“What the goblin left was a slip of paper, with the word ‘fool’ written on it. The traveler couldn't see it. He didn't know what it was. Even so, tears began to flow down his face.

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘This is the first present anyone ever gave me. I'm so happy. I'm so happy. Thank you.’

Even without his eyes, he cried and cried, great tears of joy. Then, the traveler died, the smile still on his face.”

“What kind of stories are you telling our children?!”

All of them jump at Marian’s outburst. 

“You’re gonna scar them for life!”

“This is one of the tamer stories I know,” Anders says dismissively. “I heard way worse in the Circle.”

“This isn’t the Circle! Find more appropriate stories!”

“...I liked the story, mama,” Kilian says quietly, and his sister nods next to him with wide eyes. 

“I can’t deal with your fathers right now. Put the children to sleep, please.”

—

“A nice song, papa,” Estella mumbles from her bed. 

“A nice song? I know lots of those.”

“One that you like,” Kilian pipes up. 

“Hmmm.” He thinks for a moment then smiles sadly.

“Remember me  
Though I have to say goodbye.  
Remember me  
Don't let it make you cry.  
For even if I'm far away  
I hold you in my heart.  
I cast a secret spell for you  
Each night we are apart.

Remember me  
Though I leave to join the fight.  
Remember me  
Each time you see a magic light.  
Know that I'm with you the only way that I can be.  
Until you're in my arms again  
Remember me.”

The children smile sleepily and Anders kisses their heads before walking out, bidding them sweet dreams as he closes the door. He leans back against the door and sighs, a lump in his throat. He has to do it soon, before he loses his nerve. _As if Justice would let me,_ he thinks bitterly. 

—

**_Heat. Wind where there should be none. A cloying smell in the air, choking her lungs. The sound of screaming._ **

**_She opens her eyes and sits up in bed to her home in ruins around her. Smoke hangs in the air, glowing embers dancing in the air, and ashes falling around her like snow._ **

**_Shaking and scared, Estella pushes away the covers and climbs out of her bed. Alone. All gone. An urging to descend the stairs, pushing her in an unknown direction._ **

**_She hears screams and yet the streets are empty. The sky is glowing red._ **

**_Trembling, she follows where the urge is taking her until she makes it to the huge building – the Chantry – or rather where it should have been standing. Instead, there is nothing but rubble and destruction._ **

**_Blood pours down the broken steps, pooling at the bottom, rising higher and higher. The screams are louder here, fire consuming all in it's path, and the smoke is stifling. In the glow of the blaze she sees a silhouette standing at the top of the steps, still as stone and whispering cryptically. The whispers grow louder, the figure turns to face her, and she's face to face with a beloved visage._ **

**_Her papa. Sweet, happy, sad, silly papa. But this is not her papa, not anymore. His eyes shine with a manic light and his mouth is moving around words she can't understand. She wants to run, but is frozen and can do nothing but watch as his eyes take on a cold glow, cracks appearing along his skin, until he is overtaken by the blue glow. Anders' mouth stops moving and the whispers stop._ **

**_"Papa?"_ **

**_Anders- no, the creature slowly turns its gaze to her and stares through her. She shudders, feeling the coldness of the gaze as if it were some physical thing. It stares for what feels an eternity, unnaturally still. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breathing loud in her ears._ **

**_It lunged at her.  
There was no time to scream._ **

She sits up screaming in her bed, crying ugly tears as Fenris bursts into the room, glowing a bright blue. The light makes her cringe in fear as she screams again. He stops glowing as he hurries over to her and pulls her into his arms, Marian and Anders following him into the room. 

“It’s alright, filia, princess, tata’s here, you’re all right,” he murmurs to her as Kilian questions the other parents sleepily. 

“Papa did something bad,” she wails. “Papa hurt people, the chantry was bleeding.”

“It was just a nightmare, princess, everything is fine,” Fenris hushes her, rubbing her back but she squirms in his arms. 

“No! It happened and papa did a bad thing! I saw it!” 

“Estella, you were dreaming, it wasn’t real.”

“Yes it was!”

Fenris looks up at Anders helplessly. The mage squats next to the girls bed and she cringes away from him. He frowns, dread pooling in his stomach. How could she see this? If they don’t believe her now and his plan succeeds, it would be another layer of hurt he will cast upon his family. The knowledge that they should’ve listened.

“Princess, you know papa helps people,” Anders tells her. “What did you see?”

“Grey snow in my room,” she sniffles, “empty outside, the big building in the square was gone, papa was glowing at the top of the big stairs. Red water came down the stairs and he stared at me and...” 

She whimpers and curls herself into a ball in her tata’s lap. Anders is speechless. How could she know? 

“What are you thinking, Anders?” Comes Marian’s voice from next to Kilian. 

“Something must have entered her dream in the Fade, twisted what she was seeing,” he mutters. “I’ll set up wards around the children’s beds and look into this further in the morning.”

—

“I believe she’s a mage,” Anders says quietly. 

Fenris sinks into a chair. The trio is gathered in the library the next day after putting the children to bed. Anders had performed all sorts of tests on their daughter, remaining quiet about the results until the children were asleep. 

“You’ll teach her, won’t you?” Marian says calmly. “My father taught Bethany in secret when we were growing up.”

“Yes, I can show her everything she needs to know. I won’t leave her defenseless,” Anders promises. 

Fenris stares blankly at the floor, barely hearing them. His daughter, a mage. This is his fault, he can feel it in his soul. His daughter doomed to a life in hiding from people who fear her, who would imprison her if given the chance. 

“Fenris?”

He jerks out of his thoughts, looking up at the other two. 

“Are you… angry?”

“...I am afraid for her,” he mumbles, meeting Marian’s eyes. “Your sister spent her life hiding who she was from people who would imprison her if given the chance.” Fenris shifts his gaze to Anders. “Don’t let her make the same mistake you did with your demon, Anders.”

“She’s going to be much smarter than me when she grows up, don’t worry about that,” the mage smiles weakly. 

After that day, Anders spends all his free time writing a book of lessons Estella will need to learn and practice until she’s old enough to find another tutor. 

“Why bother with that when you’ll be teaching her yourself?” Marian asks one day. 

“Templars are after me everyday, love,” he answers evasively. “It’s smart to have a backup plan just in case.”

He reluctantly asks Merrill for assistance in writing the book, and they end up writing over a thousand pages, hundreds of lessons. They have to separate it into two thick volumes, Varric arranging to have it all bound together without drawing the attention of the templars. 

As soon as the books are finished, Anders is ready to set his plan into motion.


	12. Chapter 12

“The Grand Cleric cannot help you,” Anders calls from behind Marian, approaching slowly. 

“Anders–“ Marian starts but he holds up a hand to stop her. 

“Explain yourself, mage,” Meredith snarls. 

“I will not stand by and watch while you treat mages like criminals,” Anders says, uncharacteristically calm, “while those who would lead us bow to their templar jailors.”

“How dare you speak to–“

“The Circle has failed us, Orsino! Even you should be able to see that!” The bright light of Justice flickers from within Anders and Marian automatically takes a step back. “The time has come to act. There can be no half-measures.”

“Anders, what have you done?” Marian asks, almost afraid to hear the answer. 

“There can be no turning back.” His voice seems hollow, like the light has left him already. 

A deep rumbling comes from the Chantry, the entire city seems to shake. Suddenly, a bright beam of red light bursts out of the roof of the Chantry, chunks of the building rising into the air for a moment before –

**_BOOM!!_ **

Rubble explodes across the city, falling everywhere. Instinctively, Marian and Fenris turn to look at the Hawke estate as a huge lump of stone crashes into the side of their home, collapsing part of the roof. 

**_”KILIAN! ESTELLA!! NO!!!”_ **

“Marian, you have to stay!” Fenris shouts, grabbing her and pinning her arms down to stop her fighting him as she screams in despair. “I will go find them, you need to deal with this!”

**_”ANDERS, HOW COULD YOU!!”_** She wails, still struggling against Fenris’s grip but he’s too strong for her to break free. “ ** _MURDERER!_** ”

“ **MARIAN!** ” Fenris yells into her ear and she stops fighting, reducing into sobs. “You can’t break down right now, we still need you, **the children** still need you. I will go find them and I will take them somewhere safe.”

She nods and he releases her, takes off sprinting. She’s never seen him move so fast. Turning around, she sees Anders still arguing with Orsino and Meredith. Did he not see the rubble crash into the estate? Marian storms over and punches him square in the jaw, taking him off guard and knocking him to the ground. 

“ **I should’ve listened to Sebastian a long time ago, _abomination_.”**

“Marian-“

“ **Do not speak to me.** ”

Meredith gives her an ultimatum- help her annul the Gallows or die defending it. Of course, she chooses the mages. This was Anders’s doing. Her friends help her fight off the band of templars and by the time Orsino hurries off toward the Gallows, Fenris is back. 

“Fenris-“

“They are safe.”

“Thank the Maker,” she breathes.

Turning back to Anders, he’s now sitting on a piece of rubble with his back to her. Rage, still flowing hot through her body, fuels her towards him. 

“You put our children at risk, Anders,” she hisses. “Our children.”

“I told you I would break your heart.”

“Don’t try to pin this on me, you son of a **bitch** ,” she snarls. “You promised me years ago that Justice would never harm innocent children, well what about the children that lived in that Chantry? What about the children in the Gallows that will be murdered thanks to **you**?”

“There’s nothing I can say that will be good enough.”

“Don’t you have any remorse? Or are you just the monster people kept telling me you are? How am I going to explain this to the children? When will you learn that they are your legacy? **We are your legacy!** You can just sit there if you want, I don’t know who you are. I gave you a second chance and now I see I shouldn’t have. You will help us fix this, and then you will leave. And **never** come back. The only reason I don’t kill you is for **my** children’s sake.”

“Hawke, you can’t be serious!” Sebastian shouts, getting in her face. 

“Get away from me!” She shoves him away.

“Back off, Vael,” Fenris snaps, pulling the archer away. 

“He killed hundreds, he has to die!”

“He’s still the father of my children!”

“Kill him now or I swear I will return to Starkhaven, take back my birthright and bring all the might of my city upon Kirkwall!”

“The people of Kirkwall are innocent, you idiot!”

“Make your decision, Hawke!”

“Leave, Vael,” Marian shouts. “Do what you do best and act without thinking shit through!”

Sebastian sneers at her before turning his back and running into the city. 

—

A stabbing pain shoots into her abdomen and she stumbles. Fenris catches her before she falls, steadying her as they’re about to reach the docks. 

“Marian, you’re bleeding,” he says, worried. 

She looks down to see blood trickling down her legs and she groans in pain. 

“I’ll be alright,” she says dismissively. 

“Let Anders-“

“ **I would not let him touch me with a thousand foot pole**.”

“Merrill, can you help her?”

“I will try,” the Dalish says softly as she approaches. 

She runs a hand over Marian’s stomach with a red aura, then pulls away with a gasp. 

“What is it?”

“She’s miscarrying.”

“I’m pregnant?”

“You were. It must have been the shock. I’m so sorry.”

The rogue bites her lip and holds back her tears. Another child he’s killed. She wants this to be over. To wake up and have this be a terrible nightmare. She hears a crunch and a thud and looks over to see Fenris standing over Anders on the ground, holding his now broken nose. 

“Fenris, he’s not worth it anymore,” Marian says, pain in her voice. “We still need him.”

—

“I need to get out of Kirkwall. The Divine will send an Exalted March here and kill hundreds of innocents, and Sebatian will do the same. If I can draw them away then I need to leave.”

“You’re taking us with you,” Fenris says evenly. 

“It’s not safe for the children-“

“Do you think they won’t use the children against you if you leave us here? We’re all going.”

“...fine.”

“Marian-“

She whips around and slaps Anders in the face. He had approached her from behind, hand outstretched to touch her. 

“ **I told you to leave and I meant it!** ” She nearly screams, her voice cracking from the strain of all her shouting. “Go to the furthest edges of Thedas to crawl in a hole and **DIE** for all I care, but not by my hand. I wouldn’t do that to Kilian.” 

“ _Marian_ , enough!”

She gives Fenris a crazed glare, blood trickling down her face from the gash across her nose. 

“You’re not taking his side!”

“Of course not!” The elf shouts back at her. “We need to go home and get the children, we need to leave **now**!”

“Fenris, please tell-“

“I will not tell our children anything you have to say,” he snarls. “You had to know what the consequences would be when you were planning this.”

Anders says nothing. Marian doubles over in pain, falling to her hands and knees as she groans. Merrill rushes to the rogue’s side, hands glowing brightly. 

“Just let me heal you, then I’ll leave and you’ll never see me again,” Anders begs, kneeling beside her. 

Marian looks up and stares at Fenris, who nods stiffly. 

“Fine, make it quick.”

Relieved, Anders moves closer and casts glowing hands over her abdomen, chanting something unintelligible under his breath as Marian moans in pain. Merrill hovers a hand over the gash on Marian’s face, knitting it closed into a scar. Orsino left his mark. 

Finally, relief sweeps through her center and she sobs quietly. Anders skitters back quickly as Fenris steps forward to help the rogue to her feet. 

“Go, Anders, before we change our minds,” the warrior snarls. 

The mage disappears into the docks. 

—

“Estella! Kilian!” Marian nearly screams as they burst into the estate. 

“Mama!” “Tata!”

Both children sprint out to meet them, throwing themselves into their parent’s arms. 

“Where’s papa?” Kilian demands. 

“Papa isn’t here,” Marian says evasively, not wanting to lie but also not wanting to explain the truth yet. “Come on, we need to pack our things and leave.”

Fenris takes Estella to her room and packs a bag full of clothes while Marian does the same with Kilian. They ask Orana and Bodhan to prepare a bag of rations and supplies. The children each get to bring one toy and like frightened sheep, they follow their parents around the house as they quickly prepare to leave. 

“Orana, Bodhan, I’m leaving some gold for each of you to live comfortably for a year until you can make other arrangements,” Marian says quickly as she’s scooping money from the vault into a bag, then turns to pull both of them into a crushing hug. “I’m sorry this is happening so suddenly but we can’t stay. Thank you for all your help over the years.”

“Thank _you_ , mistress,” Orana smiles. 

“Thank you for allowing us to stay with you for so long,” Bodhan agrees. 

“Take care of yourselves.”

Marian changes into her Champion armor, casting a cloak over herself to be less conspicuous. Kilian carries his own little bag while Fenris carries Estella’s. Marian carries the bag prepared for both her and the warrior, and the bag of money and supplies. Fenris is the first line of defense for their children. 

The rogue writes a coded letter to Varric, letting him know where they plan to go. She holds Estella tightly in her arms while Fenris holds Kilian’s hand. Together, they flee into the mountains outside Kirkwall, deeper into the Free Marches.


End file.
